


Turner's Camp For Troubled Teens

by Lost_in_stars



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Child Abuse, Cigarettes, F/F, Falling In Love, Fem!Billy Hargrove, Fem!Steve Harrington, Gay Billy Hargrove, Horses, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lesbian Sex, Lesbians, Male Nancy Wheeler, Medication, Mental Health Issues, Secret Relationship, Summer Camps, Weed, camps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:28:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 30,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24158887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_in_stars/pseuds/Lost_in_stars
Summary: Stevie was stuck in an ocean, and Billie?Billie was oxygen.She wasn't losing her.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 5
Kudos: 42





	1. An Excuse To Touch You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mikabells](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikabells/gifts).



**Stevie**

Stevie always had exactly one cigarette behind the barn before she went out to say hello to the new kids. She smoked it until the filter burnt at her lips, then blew out a last plume of grey smoke and ground it under her foot, despite the fact it was dying anyway. Her hair still smelled of cigarettes, and the perfume she usually had in her pocket was left back in her cabin. She was rattled, and still shaky. The events of the year before were still fresh in her mind. Maybe it wasn't good for her to be back at camp. Or maybe it was.

She walked around the barn and snuck into the group of people, instantly blending in with her yellow shirt. It said _Turner’s Camp For Troubled Teens_ in green writing across the front, covered by the denim straps of her overalls. In front of her, her boss stood. Wesley Turner, a friend of Stevie’s father’s and the founder of _Turner’s Camp For Troubled Teens_ , or the TCFTT for short. He was wearing a large grin on his face, his hands on his hips as he, and the rest of his employees, watched the yellow bus approaching in the distance.

Stevie had been working at TCFTT as an employee for four years now. She had punched her father in the face when she was twelve, and had been sent in as one of the troubled youths, attempting to reform their views on life. But she had fallen in love with the place, with the fresh smelling air and tweeting birds, with the singing by the campfire and the ghost stories whispered in the dark. Most of all, she had fallen in love with the horses. Adored all time she spent by their side. The moment she had turned fifteen, old enough for a job, she had been hired at TCFTT as a camp counsellor. She worked with the horses, showed the campers how to look after the gentle giants properly, and spent so much time with them she knew them better than anyone.

_New year, new campers_ , Stevie thought, eyeing the bus as it came to a squeaky stop in front of them. _Please let this year be easy. Please don’t let it be like last year_.

A few familiar faces hopped off the bus first. Stevie sighed, then shot a cheerful grin at Tommy and Carol, the power couple who had been sent in last year and clearly hadn't changed their ways. They already had a pool, which was what the counsellors called the groups that the campers were sorted into. These pools were sorted into three different groups – Sardines, Salmons, and Codfish. Stevie herself had been a Salmon, back when she was a camper.

Joining the old faces were a few new ones, of course. They were sorted into groups the moment the hopped off the bus, by an older man called Larry. “ _Salmon_ ,” He told a girl with a face full of acne. “ _Codfish_.” He pointed the tall, chubby boy in the right direction. “ _Sardine_.” Another girl, this time who couldn't stop twitching and had sunken cheeks. Stevie narrowed her eyes. _Another addict? They’re getting younger and younger_.

The last one off the bus had a head full of blonde curls. Her red shirt was barely buttoned up, and revealed her black sports bra. Stevie’s eyebrows knitted together as Larry said in a bored tone, “Codfish.”

The girl paused, one foot still in the air from where she was about to take a step. She was wearing denim jeans and big, heavy boots. “The fuck did you just call me?” She snapped at the man. Without waiting for an answer, the blonde girl was on top of Larry, punching him and punching him until she was pulled off by two older counsellors and shoved into the dirt. The girl spat at the man, still aiming kicks as she was dragged away towards her pool, the counsellors explaining that he hadn't meant anything by it.

“Campers!” Turner shouted when everything had settled down. “My name is Mr Wesley Turner! I’m the owner of _Turner’s Camp For Troubled Teens_ , and I’m glad to see some new faces this year!”

As Turner continued with his speech, something that he said every time new campers arrived, Stevie was handed a slip of paper and a badge. She looked down to see **STEPHANIE HARRINGTON: CODFISH** typed neatly onto the white sheet. The badge had an ugly fish on it, with it’s big mouth opened into a weird smile, a golden crown glistening on top of its head. Stevie wanted to laugh. She had never looked after the Codfish pool before, had only ever worked with Salmon and Sardine. But it was nice to be experiencing something new. It felt like the world was telling her it was a new year, and it was all going to be okay. Which was nice. She looked over at her group, only to have a pair of eyes glaring back at her.

The blonde girl who had punched Larry in the face was staring at her, her arms crossed over her (big) chest. She smirked when she noticed that Stevie had seen her.

Stevie stifled a groan. Of course. How could she have forgotten that the new girl was in her pool? She looked away from the girl and down at the list of names, scanning them over.

When Turner’s speech was finally done, Stevie and two other counsellors headed over to their pools. She came to a stop in front of the smallest group, and looked over them, smiling. The blonde girl was right at the back. She tipped her chin at Stevie as a way of hello. Stevie felt heat rushing through her cheeks and instead focused her attention on everyone else. “Hi!” She exclaimed cheerfully. “My name is Stephanie Harrington, but everyone calls me Stevie. I’ll be the captain of your pool this summer! We’re the Codfish group, and _no_ , that is _not_ an insult.” She smirked at the blonde girl. The group barely cracked smile – and only two snickered. Sighing, Stevie looked down at the list of names. “So, if you’ll follow me please, I’ll show you to your cabins.”

A small, curly haired boy joined Stevie at her side when she began to walk. She looked down and smiled at the kid. “Hey, whats your name?”

“Dustin,” The kid answered in awe. He had something wrong with his teeth. Stevie didn't mention that, and instead shook his hand.

“Stevie. Of course you already know that. Your cabin is over there; you’ll be rooming with the two other boys. There’s curtains in between each bed, though, so don’t worry.” Dustin laughed at that. “You can grab whatever bed you want. Try not to get into any trouble, and stay in there until you’re called. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes to do roll call. Would you mind telling the other two that?” She gestured towards a tall, lanky boy glaring around at everything, and a fat teenager who was drinking a can of coke. Dustin nodded, seemingly willing to do anything Stevie asked, and approached the boys.

There were four girls in the Codfish pool. Two of them Stevie already knew – Tina and Nicole – but the other two Stevie had never met. There was, of course, the blonde girl, who was still staring at Stevie, and a taller girl with dark brown hair and dark eyes. She pushed open the door of the girls cabin and let them all enter.

As the blonde passed Stevie, it felt like lightning had hit her. She felt the fizzing in her veins, the smell of a storm approaching. The girl turned, her blue eyes meeting Stevie’s brown ones, and grinned. Her eyes were electric, oceanic. Memorising.

Stevie watched as the girls began to unpack their stuff, her arms crossed over her chest. She then looked down at the list again, and began to read their names. “Vicky?” She called out first, then smiled at the dark-haired girl when she raised her hand with an incoherent mumble. “Hi, Vicky.”

The list went on, the second name on it being Billie Hargrove. She read it out loud, liking the sound of it rolling off her tongue. _Billie Hargrove._ Sounded like a rockstar. The blonde girl tipped her head up at Stevie, then crossed her arms. “Yo.”

“Hi Billie,” Stevie greeted, feeling an instant wave of discomfort wash over her as she looked at the blonde. “Try not to fight the counsellors again, okay? Or _anyone_ , for that matter. You should have read the pamphlet, then you would have known what he meant when he called you a Codfish.”

“Tell me, Harrington,” The blonde said, moving closer, getting up in Stevie’s personal space. Her blue eyes seemed to glow in the dimly lit cabin. Billie’s honey coloured skin was pressed up against Stevie’s arms, until they would have been chest to chest had Stevie let her hands fall to the side. The girl smelled salty, followed heavily by cigarettes, cheap alcohol, and cologne. _Men’s_ cologne. “Do I look like a fucking Codfish to you?”

Wasn't an infuriatingly hilarious question? Stevie was very tempted to say yes.

“No, you look like a Billie,” She replied instead, looking down at the blonde, who was about two inches shorter than her. Billie’s eyebrows knitted together, and for a second Stevie had thought she had shut her up, before the girl grinned.

“My thoughts exactly, baby girl!” Billie laughed, slapping Stevie hard on the shoulder before she adjusted the strap of her bulging backpack. “Can I sleep anywhere, or am I assigned to a fucking bed too?”

Stevie itched for another cigarette. She imagined the burn on her lips with desire, then sighed. “No, you can sleep anywhere, as long as its in the cabin.”

Billie turned, then strode across the creaking wooden floor and tossed her bag onto the bed furthest away from the other girls, who seemed to be getting along well. Vicky was fitting in perfectly with Nicole and Tina as they compared shoes, but Billie’s worn work boots and jeans made her stand out from the others. She didn't seem interested in the way they gossiped about clothes, or anything girly, for that matter. The only feminine thing about Billie was her perfectly conditioned, teased golden locks, styled to perfection. The hair tumbled over her shoulders and fell to just below her breasts, shorter than Stevie’s, but still beautiful. Stevie had a feeling Billie wouldn't get along with the other girls. “Good,” The blonde said. “What ‘bout smoking?”

“It’s banned,” Stevie snapped, then instantly felt guilty as Billie frowned suspiciously. Stevie smelled of cigarette smoke, and she fucking it. So, she crept forward, then leaned in closed to Billie. _She smells like the ocean_. “But, if you do it behind the barn, no one will know. Nobody goes behind there, it stinks of horse crap.”

After the events of the year before, Stevie had promised herself she wouldn't let campers smoke or break the rules. But already, she was making exceptions.

The girl’s lips tilted up into a smirk, and then she nodded. “Thanks, babe,” She purred. “Seems like you’re the only good thing about this hell hole.”

Stevie’s cheeks flushed red again. She twirled her high ponytail, which was tied up with a bright yellow bow, and tried to smile calmly. “Don’t call me babe. It’s Stevie.”

“Billie,” Billie stuck her hand out and Stevie shook it, grinning for real this time. “Hargrove.”

“I already know your name. We don't need to do introductions, _Billie_.”

“Maybe its just an excuse to touch you, princess,” Billie whispered, her painted red lips barely moving as she quietly murmured the sentence. “You are… _Very_ , very beautiful.”

Stevie’s eyes widened and she dropped Billie’s hand like it was red hot, glancing back to see if the other girls had heard. They hadn't, which was a relief, but nevertheless Stevie stepped back and checked her watch.

“Very funny,” She snapped at Billie, who frowned again, looking confused. “Make your bed by the time I’m back. And,” She raised her voice. “Same to you three. Have your beds made before five. Any questions not regarding our pool, you go down to the games room and ask Candice.”

“What the fuck did you do to piss her off?” Stevie heard Tina say to Billie as she left, closing the door behind her.

By the time the boys cabin was organised, Stevie was restless for another cigarette. Very rarely did she use more than a pack of smokes over summer, but the events of the year before mixed with Billie Hargrove’s playfulness were screwing with her mind. Part of her wondered why she had even bothered returning to TCFTT after 1983. Once, the place had been an escape from her cold, empty home, but now the camp felt like a cage, trapping her and holding her hostage. The place held memories, too many fucking memories.

Tommy and Carol were standing outside the barn when Stevie approached holding some freshly washed saddle blankets. She came to a stop in front of them, and looked the two up and down. Tommy and Carol had crashed a car last year while driving drunk, and had been sent to TCFTT as a result. Stevie had been their friend, once. Maybe more than a friend, after a few hurried threesomes in the dark of the night. But the person who snuck them alcohol and weed by the lake was gone, drowned along with her relationship with Nate Wheeler.

It was strangely satisfying to see that the power couple were still at the camp. A routine, she supposed. _Some things never change_. “Can I help you?” She asked in a blank voice, her grip on the blankets tightening.

“Got anything for us, honey?” Carol was chewing bubblegum. _Smack, smack, smack_. The noise was so loud it seemed to be echoing throughout the otherwise silent camp. Most people were inside, unpacking or maybe even trying to plan an escape. “Like, last year was shitty, but no hard feelings?” She smiled, revealing her pink-stained teeth. Fake bitch.

“I’m not that person anymore,” Stevie muttered, pushing past the two of them. “And I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

“That’s a big word.” Carol had followed her into the barn and was watching as Stevie hung the blankets up. “You sure you know what it means?”

Stevie stiffened. She had failed her English test a couple of years back when she had used the word _referring_ wrong. But she was eighteen now. She fucking knew what it meant. Knew how to fucking spell it and everything. “Carol, if you’re going to stay here, would you mind mucking out Bean’s stall?” She snapped. “Because I really don't have time to talk right now.”

“Aw, I thought you always had time for us,” Tommy finally spoke up. His freckled cheeks split into a grin when Stevie glowered up at him.

“No one asked you, Tommy!” She resisted the urge to kick his balls so far in they came out his throat.

“Don’t talk to my boyfriend like that, you bitch!” Carol spoke, her voice raising several octaves. She was fiercely protective of her boyfriend, despite the fact they cheated on each other constantly. “Come on babe, lets go. Stephanie is too fucking good for us, apparently.”

Stevie flipped them off as she watched them go, her cheek twitching in annoyance.

_Last year was more than just shitty_ , She thought.

_Last year, a girl died_.


	2. A Fairy Bell Voice

**Billie**

The bus jostled and thumped as they drove along the long, winding country road. Billie’s back screamed in pain at every single bump, but she managed to keep her posture slouched against the crappy red seat as she stared out the window. The wounds were healing, anyway. Nothing she wasn't used to. And definitely not the worse she had received.

The camp approached in the distance, and the bus instantly became more rowdy at the sight of it. Even Billie sat up a little and squinted her eyes at the sign, attempting to read it when it grew closer and closer. _Turner’s Camp For Troubled Teens_. She scoffed, then readjusted her position, knocking knees with the bitchy looking ginger next to her and grinning when the ginger glared and moved her knees away. Billie knew she looked like a dyke. She guessed she was the only one on the bus, and maybe the entire camp, from the sandy beaches of California instead of some small country town that probably smelled of cow shit. The city was accepting – much more accepting – of gays, but the country kids clearly didn't see it that way. Billie closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the taste of a girl’s thighs on her tongue, then opened them again and tried to settle down. She felt like a spring, wound up tight and ready to snap. She wanted to punch someone.

Billie hated the fact that her heart was pounding against her chest as she watched the other kids shakily stand up. She wondered if she could sink into her seat and the bus would take her all the way back to Cali. Instead, she waited until everyone else was out before she stood, fixed her hair, and stomped towards the door.

“Codfish,” A bored looking guy told her as she stepped off the bus and looked around. Billie paused, confused at the insult. Was that what they called lesbians in the country? If so, how _dare_ he? Billie wanted to ground his face into the dirt, make him apologise. And she fucking would, if he didn't say sorry within five seconds.

“The fuck did you just call me?” She snapped, gripping the strap of her bag tightly. He stared dumbly at her. _Five, four, three, two, one._ _Show time_. Billie grabbed the guy’s shirt collar, raised her fist, and _swung_. The satisfying gasp that echoed through the crowd, along with the sickening crack as the bones in his nose broke, nearly made Billie whoop with satisfaction.

Billie was addicted to the sound and feeling of beating someone up. She pushed him down onto the ground and swung again, her fist hitting him square on the cheek this time. The healing scabs on her knuckles from the last fight she had gotten into split open, her blood mixing with his. She got in a few more hits before arms were wrapped tightly under her armpits, pulling her away and shoving her blonde curls into the dirt. “You’ll be mucking out the stalls for a week for that one, kid!” The man who was holding her down leered. “Not even five minutes in, it ain't, and you’s already got into a fight!”

She stayed still, all too familiar with the strength of a man on top of her pinning her to the ground, and waited for him to release her. Two older men helped her up, holding on tightly to her arms as she aimed one last kick at the man cowering on the ground. “Fuck you!” She spat at him. “Call me that shit again, and I swear, man, I’ll cut your dick off and turn it into–”

The last word of her sentence was cut off as the men pushed her into a group of teenagers, including the bitchy ginger from the bus. “Codfish,” The bigger one said with gritted teeth, “Is the group you’ll be put into so its easier to look after. That girl–” He pointed at a girl with long brown hair tied up in a yellow bow, standing a few metres away amongst a group of people wearing identical yellow shirts. “–She’s the leader of the Codfish group this summer. You listen to Stevie, got it? And if I find out you’ve been in anymore fights, you’ll be on bin duty for the rest of your time here, you hear me, girl?”

Beside her, a few of the other girls snickered. Billie ground her teeth, stared the man in the eye, and said, “Yes, sir.”

It came out like a reflex, but it seemed to satisfy the man enough because he moved away, nudging the man beside him. “Feisty one, that one. Hope this isn't like last year...”

All through the speech that the owner of the camp made, Billie found herself memorised by the brown haired beauty standing a few metres away, looking distracted. At one point, the girl, Stevie, had actually turned and _looked_ at her. Billie pushed her boobs up, stood up straighter, and smirked at the other girl. Barely two seconds later, though, Stevie looked away and continued to scan the camp, looking everywhere – it seemed – _except_ for Billie.

It fucking pissed her off.

By the time the speech was over, Billie was _so_ ready to curl up in bed and sleep forever. But when the brown haired girl began to approach them, she stifled her yawn and stared at her until their eyes met for the second time. But, to Billie’s disappointment, she once again looked away and instead began to speak. Stevie’s voice sounded like fairy bells and piano. She could close her eyes, listen to that voice forever. Until, of course, Stevie mentioned the bus incident. “And _no_ , that is _not_ an insult.”

Bitchy ginger snickered, a curly haired kid joined her. Billie felt her face flushing red – wasn't sure whether she wanted knock this Stevie bitch unconscious or annoy her so much that Stevie shoved her up against a wall and fucked her senseless. After a short moment of consideration, she decided on the second option. Billie’s boots thudded against the red dirt as she hurried to catch up with the other girl, but to her dismay and annoyance, the curly haired kid had gotten there first. Stevie laughed, looked down at him, then pointed the kid the way to what Billie could only assume was the boys cabin.

Finally. Billie had Stevie all to herself. She waited until the three other girls entered first, then brushed past the brown haired girl, their hands nearly touching. Billie wanted to grab her fucking hair and tug. Wanted to hold Stevie’s waist and shove her onto a chair, and dance on her lap. Wanted Stevie to touch her, to rub circles around Billie’s breasts after spending hours upon hours leaving love bites on Billie’s body. She fucking wanted Stevie to notice her, to kiss her, to fucking eat her out and leave Billie begging for more.

But she couldn't. Because Stephanie Harrington, no doubt, had been raised in some sort of hick town where girl on girl was only mentioned for the pleasure of men. So Billie brushed past, resisted the urge to touch her, and stood in a bored manner a few metres away from the other girls she would be sharing a cabin with for the summer.

“Vicky?” Stevie called out, her fairy-bell voice ringing in Billie’s ears. A girl with dark hair raised her hand. “Hi, Vicky.”

The next name on the list was Billie’s, and _fuck_ , if Billie didn't love the way Stevie said it. “Yo,” She said, staring at Stevie and imagining her name being spoken in the dead of the night. Stevie shifted uncomfortably and gripped the list tighter. Was Billie making her uncomfortable? Fucking _good_.

“Hi Billie. Try not to fight with the counsellors again, huh? Or _anyone_ , for that matter. You should have read the pamphlet, then you would have known what he meant when he called you a Codfish.”

Billie didn't like Stevie telling her off in a non-sexual way. She moved up close, pushed up her boobs with her crossed arms, and pressed their arms together. “Tell me Harrington,” She said in the low voice that made the bitches back at home go wild. “Do I look like a fucking Codfish to you?”

“No,” Stevie visibly gnawed the inside of her cheek, then pursed her lips and smiled. “You look like a Billie.”

Billie was momentarily stumped. She paused, running the comment over in her head for a few seconds before she grinned and shoved Stevie’s shoulder in agreement. “My thought exactly, baby girl!”

They spoke for a few minutes as the other girls bustled around them. Billie’s heart was beating fast in her chest; was she falling for a straight girl again? That wasn't fucking _fair_. But, maybe, just _maybe_ , Stephanie Harrington could like girls. Not all lesbians were butches, and Billie knew that. She, herself, barely brushed the limit of ‘butch lesbian.’ Maybe – _hopefully, please God_ – Stevie was just the feminine type. She knew it was a stretch, but Stevie was just so fucking _gorgeous_ , Billie was fucking _dying_. Everything about Stevie screamed straight, but wishful thinking won over Billie’s logic and she decided to put it to the test.

The result was both disappointing and amusing.

Stevie snapped when Billie flirted shamelessly with her. Calling her _babe_ , and _princess_ , and hell, even _baby girl_ was apparently fine, but God fucking forbid Billie said the other girl was hot. The reaction was definitely one a straight girl would have – dropping the hand, stepping away, snapping at her to hurry up with what she was doing – but a little voice in Billie’s head wondered if Stevie could change. Well, not change, exactly, but dig up that little part in every girl’s head that questioned if they liked girls. They could have a one time thing, Stevie could discover she either liked or hated pussy, and they could go their separate ways. A win-win situation, right? Billie hadn't had sex in _so long_.

When Stevie returned, she didn't look at Billie. Merely directed them to the mess hall and left after talking to Turner, the man in charge of the place. Billie slouched in her seat and picked at her food, wondering if the chocolate in her bag had melted, and if the apology cookies that her bitch of a step-sister had made were actually edible. She managed to down a few pieces of pizza that tasted like cardboard, along with several glasses of water, pretending it was booze and she was back at a party, chugging an entire bottle. But, when she slammed the glass down on the table, there was no cheering and pats on the back. A fat girl just shoved the water jug towards her with a look of boredom crossing her features.

Billie was guided back to her dorm after dinner by Queen Stevie herself. She smelled of cigarette smoke again, now mixed with something like hay and oats.

As the other girls bustled around and changed into pyjamas, Billie sat next to the door and blew smoke underneath it so it wouldn't stink up the room. All of the windows were locked, and despite the fact Billie was an expert lock picker, she didn't want the other girls finding out quite yet. So she stayed, next to the door, smoking in silence until the bitchy looking ginger from the bus approached her with a smile on her face. She plucked the smoke from Billie’s hands and took a drag before returning it. There were pink lipsticks stains around the filter now, combined with Billie’s own cherry red.

“I’m Nicole,” The girl offered. Billie raised her eyebrows, and the girl kept speaking. “So. Like. I’ve noticed that most of the guys wanna, like, fuck you? Well, I was just wondering. Is there anyone here you like? So, like, its my third year here and I know most of the guys? Just, point him out, and I’ll introduce you?” The way Nicole was speaking made Billie’s skin itch. She hated when people spoke in questions.

“Yeah, I like someone.” Billie tilted her head and nodded at Stephanie Harrington’s cabin, which was right across from theirs, but smaller. Nicole followed her gaze. Stevie’s silhouette was lit across the window as she buzzed around her bedroom. “I like that Stephanie bitch. Dick don't do it for me, babe.”

The look on Nicole’s face was _so_ worth the silent treatment she was going to get from the other girls.


	3. Okay Ladies

**Stevie**

Stephanie rolled her shoulders, then stretched her arms out to the peeling paint on her ceilings and groaned. A sickening crack sounded from her joints, causing her to lower them gently and slowly move to get out of bed.

As she got dressed, the dream she had had was haunting her thoughts. Blue eyes. It had been _months_ since she dreamed about his eyes. Why were they coming back now? And why did they look different? More… Feminine?

The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon when Stevie opened her door, but other camp counsellors were already starting to stir. The cold morning fog stung at Stevie’s skin as she walked through the campsite towards the stables, with her feet going numb in a pair of big black gumboots and hair tied up into a messy bun.

When she arrived at the stables, there was already someone in there. Billie Hargrove, standing in front of Lady’s stall, an unlit cigarette hanging from her mouth. Goosebumps could be seen on her skin as she hugged her arms around her, glaring up at the black horse. She hadn't seemed to notice Stevie standing at the doorway, holding a bucket of oats. “Give it back,” Billie was telling the horse firmly, flinching a little every time Lady flared her nostrils or even simply blinked. “Come on,” The blonde begged, her voice even beginning to whine as she spoke. “Just give me back my lighter, you shit.”

“She’s friendly,” Stevie said, entering the barn and closing the door behind her. Billie jumped, turning to stare at Stevie, which would have been funny if Stevie hadn't noticed the dark circles underneath the blonde’s eyes. “Didn’t get much sleep?” She asked quietly as she gave the horses their meals.

“I don't sleep well in new places,” Billie answered stiffly, watching as Stevie moved around the barn, checking the horse’s water and giving each one a pat on the nose.

“Ah.” Stevie turned and smiled at her, determined to be friendly despite the fact that Billie made her uncomfortable. “You’ll get used to it, Billie. By the way, why were you talking to Lady? She doesn't understand voice commands yet.”

“It took my lighter.” Billie shifted on her feet, her cheeks tinged pink. “Or. I dropped it, in there. When that _fuck_ –” She pointed at the horse in the stall across. “–Tried to fucking nip me.”

“Just go in there and get the lighter. And don't mind Prince, he’s in the middle of being broken in.”

“What if it kicks me?” The blonde had her eyes narrowed suspiciously at Lady. It was cute… Really fucking cute, actually. Stevie tried to push all thoughts out of her head and put the bucket down on the floor, walking closer. “Or bites me?” Billie continued cautiously.

“She _won’t_ ,” Stevie promised. “I swear. She’s one of our most friendly horses. We usually put beginners on her, or kids if there’s any visiting their siblings. Just undo the latch, step in, and pick up the lighter. She’ll barely notice you.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Billie hissed after a beat of silence. She undid the latch quietly and slipped inside, disappearing behind the gate for a second before she resurfaced with a silver Zippo clutched in her hand. She then stared up at Lady, who was blinking slowly at her. “I guess you’re not so bad,” Billie told the horse. “Just a little dumb.”

On cue, Lady leaned forward and sniffed Billie, causing her to jump back and slam into the gate. Stevie tutted, then undid the latch and opened it, allowing Billie to fall into her arms. The warmth of Billie’s back against Stevie’s chest felt almost addicting. She missed the touch, the feeling of her arms wrapped around somebody, despite the fact Billie was a girl. “She just wanted to know if you had a carrot,” Stevie told Billie when the blonde looked up, scowling.

“Let me go, Harrington.”

“Okay, okay.”

Stevie wanted to laugh. It was hilarious and fucking absurd that Billie Hargrove was nervous about horses, so nervous she had nearly tripped when one came at her. Instead of laughing, she held back a smirk and helped Billie to be steady on her feet, watching as the blonde brushed herself off, looking absolutely livid.

Something about the day was putting Stevie in a good mood. The air felt fresher, the tweeting birds sweeter, the sunrise peeking over the horizon perfectly. Everything seemed good, like the day was going to be okay. Like the memories of last year wouldn't attack her. Like the presence of Billie Hargrove wasn't going to bother her like it had the day before.

“It’s crazy you’re talking to me, after being so pissed yesterday.” Billie was following Stevie around the barn, occasionally blowing smoke at the back of Stevie’s neck. She felt the warmth and movement of her stray brown hairs at the smoke, causing her to shiver a little, but didn't tell the girl off despite the fact she was smoking around the horses.

“I’m not used to girls hitting on me,” Stevie answered honestly. “Plus, I wasn't in a good mood yesterday to begin with. It’s not personal.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be, like, happy all the time?” Billie asked innocently. When Stevie turned to look at her, Billie had a huge smile on her face that was creepy, and was probably intended to be. “I’m a camp counsellor! I wake up smiling and fall asleep smiling! I care about fitness! I sacrifice troubled teenagers to the moon god for a constant smile! I wear bows in my hair! And! I probably knit!”

Stevie couldn't help it – she laughed. Billie looked delighted when she heard the sound. “You are _so_ weird, Billie,” Stevie told the blonde when she managed to stop giggling. “I crocheted once. I learned how to crochet a line, but that’s about it. Knitting? Nah.” She shrugged, then plucked the cigarette out of Billie’s mouth and held it to her own lips, taking a long drag. “And shouldn’t you be in the mess hall, getting breakfast?”

“If you think I’m spending another five minutes with those sluts then–” Billie took a deep breath. “No. I can go without breakfast. It’s better than hanging with those bitches.”

“What happened?” Stevie asked, genuinely concerned and also a little curious.

“Bunch’a rumours flying around,” Billie said with a casual wave of her hand. “About me being gay. Like, its true, but these fucking hicks...” She shook her head, her blonde curls swaying as she did so. Stevie was entranced. “They’re _so_ close-minded. Says it’s wrong, and shit like that. I heard ‘em talking about a room change. Apparently they don't want to sleep in the same room as a lesbian.”

Stevie stared.

She couldn't help it. She stood still, and _stared_ at Billie.

It was no secret that Billie Hargrove was a dyke. A game of Chinese Whispers had been played the moment she stepped off that bus, all boots and jeans and boys shirts. But a room change? That was a bit harsh. “That’s fucked,” Stevie told Billie after a beat of silence. “There’s nowhere else they can put you! Are you going to sleep in a tent, or something?”

“Ah, I’ll figure it out.” Billie waved her away much like one would swat away a fly. “If I’m lucky, they’ll just send me back to California and I’ll stay at a friend’s place or something.” She grinned up at Stevie, looking reasonably happy, but when Stevie looked close she could see the worry and anxiety drifting through the girl’s ocean eyes.

“Right,” Stevie said, changing the subject. “We’re going on a trail ride today. You, me, and the rest of the Codfish pool. Maybe we could put you on Lady here.” Stevie patted the white horse’s nose affectionately. “You two seem to get along.”

Billie scowled up at the horse, but looked at Stevie with an exaggerated smile. “Can’t wait, Stephanie.”

<><><><>

For some reason, Billie’s mere presence made Stevie itch all over. The girl was different to anyone she had ever met – and she had worked at TCFTT for years. They brought all types of unique teenagers in, but Billie… Billie stood out. From her uncaring persona to her smell of cigarettes and salt, she bothered Stevie. Without even speaking, without even _looking_ , Stevie was irritated.

Their conversation in the barn from earlier had been forgotten when the rest of the pool had arrived. Stevie stepped away from Billie, not wanting to look like she had been playing favourites, and focused on teaching the pool how to saddle up the horses. Now, they were trotting up the mountain on horseback, with Stevie leading in front and the Henderson kid beside her. As promised, Billie was on Lady at the very back; whenever Stevie glanced back at her, the blonde was extremely uncomfortable and tense. Maybe from the girls whispering about her, maybe from her hidden fear of horses. Stevie couldn't tell, and she wasn't going to ask.

Dustin Henderson chatted away beside Stevie, only stopping when she spoke to the group and instructed them to do something. His voice clouded Stevie’s thoughts, and… And she was weirdly grateful. Usually, noise and speaking bothered her, but Dustin’s voice, despite being annoying, was distracting her from the thought of Billie Hargrove.

They reached the top of the mountain with no trouble. After tying the horses up, the pool sat in a clearing and listened to Stevie speak about the wildlife and the flora around them. Once her required speech was done, Stevie allowed them all to sit and talk amongst themselves, even turning a blind eye to the cigarettes being shared between the girls. Billie, of course, wasn't a part of their little group. She was wandering around the edge of the cliff overlooking the camp with her own cigarette, occasionally kicking rocks off the edge.

The plume of grey smoke Billie blew in her face when Stevie approached was enough to leave her coughing and wondering how somebody could inhale that much. Stevie had been smoking since she was thirteen, but the amount of smoke Billie had been holding in was both fascinating and worrying.

“Was Lady okay?” Stevie asked casually, leaning against a tree a few metres from her. Billie coughed, clearly startled at the question, and choked on her smoke. Stevie resisted the urge to pat her on the back.

“Ladies are _way_ more than okay,” Billie answered when she had recovered. “Do you think I’d be a queer if guys were better? All that dick, man. Don’t like that.”

Stevie blinked at the answer, confused, before it dawned on her. “Oh!” She was embarrassed to say it came out as a squeak. “I meant-- Not-- Uh, no, its-- I meant the horse!”

“Oh,” Billie said, still sounding choked. “I… Yeah, I know that, it was a joke.” She let out a clearly forced laugh. Stevie laughed awkwardly along. “Lady was fine, princess. If you excuse me, I have… Somewhere else to be.”

As Billie turned and began to walk away, Stevie could have sworn she saw her cheeks tinged pink.


	4. Aristocratic

**Billie**

A room change.

A fucking _room change._

She knew it was coming, but hearing the words being said to her face was humiliating and infuriating. _A room change!_

Billie found herself sitting in Turner’s office with her father’s voice shouting in her ear over the phone. _“I can’t believe this, Billie! Just you wait until you get back! I’ll make that belt look like a fucking_ massage _! I understand you’re a dyke but you don't have to_ tell _everyone! A room change because the girls found out you’re queer? I don’t blame them, I blame you, you’re_ disgusting _! I’m so disappointed in you. Why are you_ _like this, Billie_ _? Probably because you take after your_ _fucking_ _slut of a mother_...” And so on. Billie sat with the phone to her ear, saying “Yes sir,” and “No sir,” when it was appropriate while Turner sat in front of her with a sneer on his face.

When Billie put the phone back on the hook, Turner raised his eyebrows. “I’m assuming he agrees, does he?”

“Yes,” Billie spat, grinding her teeth.

“Thought so. A man like your father, he raises a kid right.”

Turner and her father Neil had known each other for over twenty years. They had served in the military together, and shared equal hatred for Billie and Billie’s mother. When the whole _incident_ had happened, Turner had offered to take Billie in for the summer, free of charge, and try to change her. Neil, wanting to get rid of his daughter for a few months, had agreed instantly.

So, two weeks later, Billie was sitting in a bus getting shipped off to a camp for _troubled teenagers_. She was the definition of a troubled teenager, but what had happened wasn't her fault. It was Maxine, her bitch of a step-sister.

Not even two days in, and the girls in Billie’s fucking Codfish lake or something like that had already kicked her out of their little group, because she was gay. Fucking ridiculous.

“You don’t need to trouble yourself with a room change, you know,” Billie told Turner in a bored manner. “I can hitchhike back to Cali. Don’t need your pity fixing, or whatever. I’m perfectly fine by myself, thank you very fucking much.”

“You’re staying here, young lady,” Turner snapped. “Until you feel guilt for what you’ve done.”

_What Maxine fucking did_! “Fine,” Billie snarled. “I’m sorry! I’m _so_ sorry, now let me go home!”

“No, not going to happen. You’re staying at the camp, and you’ll be sleeping in...” Turner looked down and scanned the list of names on the desk. “You can sleep in Stephanie Harrington’s cabin. I’m sure she won’t mind.”

The world skidded to a stop. _Stephanie Harrington, Stephanie fucking Harrington?!_ Billie’s heart sped up even at the mention of the name, her mind already racing at the thought of spending the rest of her summer beside Stephanie Harrington. Waking up to her clipping on a pink bra – she was _so_ the type to wear a pink bra – and turning to Billie with those big, brown, doe eyes, whispering _“Can you get it for me?”_ Billie imagined her fingers grazing over Stevie’s back, over the little moles and milky, unscarred skin.

As if on cue, somebody knocked politely on Turner’s office door, and Stevie entered a few moments later. She looked from Turner to Billie, then smiled awkwardly. “You called for me?” She asked Turner.

“I’m sure you’ve heard rumours of a certain Miss Billie Hargrove being an, uh,” Turner paused. “A _homosexual–_ ” Billie scowled. “–And because of this, the girls in the Codfish group have requested she be moved to avoid any, uh,” Another pause. “ _Perversion_.”

Billie wanted to scream at him. Wanted to grab his fucking balding head and smash it into the table until he was begging, crying for mercy with red blood dripping down his hooked nose. Perversion?! Billie would never go for those bitches. Instead, she scrunched her hands into fists and let her mouth fold into a thin line as she listened to Turner continue to speak.

“So, as cabin seven was, um, _demolished_ last year, which is where we usually put the confused, I thought that Miss Billie here could share your cabin for the time being.”

Billie didn't look up. She knew a horrified look of disgust was crossing Stevie’s pretty features, her dark brown eyes full of hatred. It would hurt too much to look. Before, on the way back to camp, she had spotted Nicole speaking to Stevie, had heard her name being tossed into the conversation once or twice. Stevie looked uncomfortable when the conversation was over, and Nicole shot a fake smile at Billie when she passed.

When Stevie looked at her, Billie had scowled and focused her vision on the trees they were passing.

“I don’t see anything wrong with that,” Stevie answered, sounding forced. Billie wondered if she was grinding her teeth as well. Resisting the urge to look at Stevie, Billie instead turned her head and stared out the window. The bitches who had put her in the situation to begin with were standing outside, chatting happily with some of the boys from the mess hall. She wanted to go out there and grind their faces into the fucking dirt.

“Great!” Turner’s voice snapped Billie’s attention back to their conversation. “She can move her stuff in right now! Hargrove...” He then let his cheery voice drop as he addressed Billie. “Your father is coming to visit next week. He said to tell you to clear your schedule for a walk with him. He would like to speak with you.”

A walk translated to Billie’s face stained red with a hand print or new marks on her already slashed back. And to speak with her? A code for violence, and Turner knew it. She didn't like the thought of it. “Yes sir,” Billie answered anyway. “Can I go now?”

A sharp nod made Billie stand up in her seat and shove past Stevie, ignoring the wince of pain that sounded from the other girl. She wanted to scream and beat the shit out of somebody, feel the scabs on her knuckles reopen and stain the ground with her blood along with the blood of her victim.

So when a freckled guy came up with a grin and said that he could always show her what a _true man_ felt like, she punched him square in the nose.

<><><><>

Billie had to muck out the stables for a week. As far as punishments went, it wasn't that bad, but she knew it was only a matter of time before Neil was arriving a day early, claiming he missed his daughter, and she returned to camp limping in pain.

A room change had already been enough to anger Neil, but when he heard about the fights she was getting into he’d be _livid_. The _respect and responsibility_ talk would come out, followed closely by the _you’re no daughter of mine, you’re just a fucking dyke_ talk. So, roughly translating to getting beat up. They would return back to camp, and Neil would tell everyone that Billie _lost her footing while trying to clim_ _b_ _a rock_. And Billie? Billie would fucking agree, despite the fact rocks didn't cause red hand prints, and falling didn't explain the boot shape on her stomach.

Stevie was in the cabin with a book in her hands and a confused look on her face when Billie entered, hair wet from the shower she had taken to remove the stink of horse manure. Billie’s stuff was stacked neatly next to a small cot on the ground – she kicked it aside and flopped onto the mattress.

“Hi,” Stevie said, closing the book. Billie stared at the cover – Her mother used to read her _To Kill A Mockingbird_ when she was a kid – and looked up at her. _To Kill A Mockingbird_ was an easy book to read, with a story line that was simple to follow, so why did Stevie look so confused?

Ignoring her thoughts, Billie replied with a grunt and began to search through her backpack for something to eat, since she had missed dinner. The chocolate was, as suspected, melted, and Billie tossed it to the side with a frustrated growl. The cookies were equally as inedible. Billie had her suspicions that Maxine had dug them out of the trash and used them as an apology instead of actually trying. Because she was a fucking prick.

Billie thought about the cigarettes in her bag, unable to smoke them because of the camp counsellor sitting on the bed across from her, and sighed. She only had two smokes left, and was wondering where she could access some more when a wrapped sandwich landed on the bed beside her. At a quick glance, Billie could see it was cheese and tomato. She looked up at Stevie, who had reopened her book and was mouthing the words with a red face. “Thanks,” Billie said quietly, unwrapping the sandwich. Stevie replied with a nonchalant shrug and turned the page, looking more bewildered than ever. Billie took a bite of the sandwich and sat back, trying to be as small as possible.

“Cho-- Chaff-er?” Stevie murmured quietly. Billie leaned slightly to the left and scanned the page, looking for the word she was trying to pronounce.

“Chauffeur,” Billie told her. Stevie looked down at her and smiled.

“Sorry, I didn't realise I was reading out loud. Thanks, though. I failed my English class last year and now my teacher says I have to turn in an essay on this book.”

“It’s pretty simple,” Billie said, shrugging as she ate another bite of her sandwich. “There’s this whole scandal because they think this black guy raped this white woman, but it turns out he didn't. And there’s this other guy, Boo, who kind of just exists but ends up saving Scout when she’s dressed as a ham for the school play from the _actual_ rapist.”

“A ham?”

“For the school play, yeah.”

Stevie blinked, still looking confused, then looked down at the book. “I mean, yeah I get that part, but like. Would they be mad if a white guy raped her?”

“No, that’s the whole _point_ ,” Billie replied, exasperated. “The black guy didn't even touch her. He’s a good dude. But yeah, probably not.”

“Why?”

“Because racism, Stephanie!” Billie snapped, fed up with the questions. She took an angry bite of her sandwich, then felt bad as Stevie looked hurt and turned back to her book. “Look,” Billie said. “It’s a pretty fucked up book. You ask me, I don’t think it should even be on the fucking shelves, ‘cause of the rape story line. But if your teacher wants you to do an essay on it, don’t get _too_ distracted by that shit. Just complete the essay, then keep your head down and get help with the rest of your projects. You’ll be graduating soon, right?”

“Yeah,” Stevie agreed, nodding to herself. “Yeah. Only have a year to go. Then I’ll end up becoming some sort of gold digger and marry rich, like my mother.” She went quiet. Billie wanted to lean over and kiss the sadness away, but instead plucked at the fluff on her blanket and stayed silent as she chewed on the bread. “I wanted to be a basketball player, did you know that?” Stevie continued. “But my parents said nobody would marry a girl who played a sport like that, and that I should join the cheerleading team instead. So I did, and only played basketball when there was no one else around. Then I had to quit the team last year because _it was getting in the way of my education_ or some shit like that. Like, I had actually started to enjoy cheerleading? Not as much as basketball, but I couldn't do anything about that, so cheer was the next best thing. I have to push my grade up to a C minus by the time the Christmas holidays roll around, or I can’t continue on the team.”

Which. Okay, wow. Whiplash. That was a lot to take in at once. Billie wasn't sure what to say, so she settled on her usual reply. Rudeness.

Billie said, “I didn't ask for a fucking backstory, Harrington,” and Stevie grinned.

“Yeah, Hargrove,” She agreed. “But you fucking got one.”

Stevie’s cheekbones were prominent and high, standing out and making her look sophisticated, almost aristocratic. Her nose was too big for her face, her goofy smile unfitting with her cheeks, and her dark brown eyes bigger than most.

All her imperfections, all her little flaws, Billie could point out.

Yet, Stephanie Harrington was the most beautiful person she had ever seen.

It was then that Billie Hargrove realised that she didn't just want some sort of summer fling with Stevie… She wanted them to _fall in love_.


	5. A Backstory and a List Of Baggage

**Stevie**

It wasn't even close to a backstory. Stephanie Harrington had been through so much more than losing her spot on the team.

There had been a boy last year, a boy that Stevie had fallen in love with. His name was Nate Wheeler. He was at camp for creating a homework trading system at his school, along with his friend. He had been sweet, and nerdy, and handsome with his curly brown hair and pale blue eyes. She was his first. He was not hers. They had fucked – not fucked, _made love_ , Nate said – in the forest a few metres away from the lake, with Tommy and Carol occupying the bushes that Stevie usually used.

Stevie had had plenty of boyfriends before, but Nate had been different. He came with _luggage_. Enough of it to make a list.

1\. He refused to leave his friend behind when Stevie tried to drag him to parties in the forest. His friend was a girl named Barbra, with curly red hair and glasses, who wore pink ruffled shirts and baggy jeans. Everything about her screamed _nerd_ , but Nate refused to let her trail behind them, instead choosing to hold on tightly and bring her with him.

2\. His family was a mess. They had come to visit Nate on visiting day, and Stevie had walked in on Mrs Wheeler giving a teenage camper a blow job. Mr Wheeler was asleep in the car. And his little brother Mike had apparently decided that being twelve years old was the perfect age to be an angsty teenager. The only good one was Holly, the little sister, but she wandered off a lot.

3\. He was too accepting of people. Stevie came to find out this third reason after falling in love with him. He forgave far too quickly.

Stevie fell in love with Nate. She had tried not to, just wanted him to be another quick screw, but he was just so kind and sweet she couldn't find the courage to leave him. She began to fall for him.

Then Joan fucking Byers came along, and fucked it all up. Joan was one of the quiet types they didn't often get in camp, but she still managed to catch Nate’s attention. The reason she was at TCFTT? Well, she went to the same school as Nate and Barb did, and had been caught with pictures of Nate changing in his bedroom.

And Nate _fucked_ her. He _fucked_ the girl that _took naked pictures of him_.

Or, maybe Barb had been the one that fucked it up. Fucked it all up with her neediness and bitter hate directed towards Stevie for taking her friend away. Stevie wanted to slap her, sometimes. She wanted to tell Barb that she wasn't Nate’s number one priority. That it was Stevie, not Barb. But she didn't, because really, Nate loved Barb a lot more than he loved Stevie. They were best friends, after all. Stevie was just the girlfriend.

But everything had changed one night. You see, Stevie used to hand things out, at camp. Things that weren't only banned in Turner’s Camp, but _illegal_. Things like drugs. Of course, she supplied them with less dangerous things, like cigarettes and alcohol. It hadn't been the drugs that did it, actually. It had been the booze. The thing that Stevie had been the least worried about supplying.

Because, one night, a party by the lake ended in Barb drinking from the punch bowl. And her going for a swim. The punch was spiked, spiked with the alcohol Stevie provided.

Stevie still remembered the screams that echoed through the woods that night when Barb was pulled out of the lake, lips blue and eyes wide open, her last sights being that of the dark water surrounding her and entering her lungs, drowning her with ease.

Nate had been furious and depressed after that, blaming Stevie for the girl’s death because she had dragged him off to fuck in the forest. Stevie thought that wasn't fair. _He_ had been the one to initiate the flirting all night. _He_ had been the one to kiss her softly and sweetly. _He_ had been the one who wanted to lose his virginity. Not Stevie. She could have gone another night without sex.

Nate fought with Stevie for the rest of the summer, and then, on the second last week of camp, decided to go and fuck Joan Byers.

The crack of Stevie’s heart when she discovered them was even louder than the screams at the lake.

Queen Stephanie fell. Her glittering crown laid in hundreds of pieces, shattered like the remains of her heart. She stopped dealing to the campers, stopped going to parties, and actually began to do her job. TCFTT became a lot stricter after Barb’s death, and started locking the doors to the cabins every night so campers couldn't sneak out to parties, but Stevie did nothing to help break the rules. She kept her head down and tried to act happy, but the last drunken words Nate spoke to her still rang in her ears.

“ _You think I love you? ‘S bullshit! Bullshit!”_

They broke up at the end of last years camp, when Nate was wasted as shit and throwing the harsh truth at Stevie faster than she could catch it.

_Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit_.

Since Nate, Stevie hadn't been with anyone else. She knew _how_ to fuck people, was great at it actually, but compared to Nate they all seemed so sour, whilst he had been sweeter than sugar. The closest she got was some hand jobs behind closed doors before she gave up and decided to never date a boy ever again. She’d never even _think_ about being with anyone else ever again.

But, when riding back from the top of the mountain with the rest of the pool riding behind, Stevie let herself get distracted. Her mind was pulled away from the pleasure of horse riding and into a blissful daydream of blonde hair and blue eyes, kissing her over a cup of coffee.

It was only when Nicole rode up beside her, trotting neatly on Dina the horse, that Stevie was brought back down into reality. “I saw you talking to that girl, Billie?” Nicole said casually, speaking like it was a question. “I just thought you ought to know – she has a crush on you? Like, a lesbian crush? Told me last night.”

Stevie said, “Oh.”

She figured it was bullshit ( _because it always is, isn't it? It’s always bullshit..._ ). And it probably was, but Stevie’s mind was already racing, realising that the thoughts she had been having was of _Billie’s_ blonde hair, that the hazy daydreams of ocean blue eyes had been _Billie’s_ blue eyes.

_Shit_.

“We’re nearly back at camp,” Stevie cut in before Nicole could say anything else. She knew she sounded uncomfortable, and felt bad when Nicole rode back to her friends, looking smug and triumphant. And felt even worse when she caught Billie’s eye and the blonde scowled.

Later, back in the cabins, she watched as Dustin and Tina moved Billie’s stuff into her own private room, putting the bag down next to a poorly made cot that squeaked when Stevie put the pillow down on it. Dustin said, “I cant believe I’m touching a _lesbian’s_ stuff! I can’t believe you’re letting her _sleep_ in here!” Which made Tina giggle and Stevie snap at him.

“ _Dustin_!”

“Right, sorry, there’s nothing wrong with it or anything. I have a gay uncle, and my friend Will? I think he might be gay too. He’s the nurse’s son. He’s cool. We’re cool,” Dustin rambled, which shut Tina right-the-fuck-up.

When Billie had arrived, the entire cabin was overtaken by her salty, ocean smell. Stevie took several deep breaths and tried to distract herself with a book she didn't understand, but had to read because she was an idiot and failing her English class.

The rest happened in a blur. Billie was hungry, and Stevie gave her a sandwich. Stevie pronounced a word wrong, and Billie explained the plot of the book. Stevie spoke about needing her grade upped, and Billie said she didn't need a fucking backstory, so Stevie said she got one anyway.

And then… Then there was silence. A small, warm silence. Billie was staring at her as if she was a project, studying her face. It felt like she was pointing out every single flaw, every little thing that Stevie hated about herself. But, after a moment, Billie’s eyes softened and they flicked back up to meet Stevie’s own.

There was a light dusting of golden freckles scattered across Billie’s tanned features, probably from the hours spent on the beach, gaining that beautiful tan of hers.

Billie didn't fit in with the rest of them.

She was too bold, too confident for the likes of Stevie’s country people. The girl held her head high, openly admitting she was a lesbian despite the cold shoulder she gained because of it. Billie clearly belonged in cities and sandy beaches, not amongst the troubled teens of the surrounding country towns. She was bonfires and storms – Stevie was fairy lights and sunrises.

Stevie herself lived in Hawkins, at the edge of town in a big, empty house. Nate, Tommy, Carol, and Joan went to the public school, while she was sent off to the private school half an hour away every single morning, being driven by her private driver and rolling up in a sleek black car, fitting in with the other preppy kids who arrived the exact same way.

Despite being different from the rest of the kids in Hawkins, Stevie still managed to make herself known and popular in town. She got a reputation for being reckless and rich, and gained friends with money and cruelty. When she had first gone to Turner’s Camp For Troubled Teens, everybody had been amazed and almost envious. _“That Stephanie Harrington?”_ They would whisper. _“She’s wild! She got sent to a ‘camp for troubled teens’ last summer!”_

The rumours floated around Stevie like she was a big fish in the small pond of Hawkins, and they were tiny little bugs. She gobbled them up greedily, and caused even more chaos.

Then she had met Nate Wheeler at camp, and things had begun to settle down a little more. Despite the two of them living in the same town, they hadn't really talked before. Nate Wheeler was known as a prince, and Stephanie known as a queen. They didn't mix – Stevie was too reckless, and Nate was too down-to-earth. But at camp, when they finally met, they seemed to click.

Barb Holland happened, followed by Joan Byers, and Stevie’s heart was crushed to powder by the end of the year.

Now, Billie Hargrove had arrived. She was a shark from the ocean thrown into the small pond of Turner’s camp and Hawkins teenagers.

She was going to eat them all alive.


	6. A Race To The Finish Line

**Billie**

“You know, like, most lesbianism is a phase?”

Billie chewed on her dry toast and reminded herself that this conversation was also a phase, and Nicole would fuck off with her weird fucking question speak sooner or later. “Uh huh,” She said, trying her very best to sound interested. “So are most of your hook ups, hon.”

Nicole let out an offended squawk, and hit her shoulder as if she was joking. “Billie? I’m, like, trying to help you? My mum said that often teenage gays are just confused? And, like? We have to do our best to help them while they’re still young–”

“Your mum also said _harder Billie harder_ when I was with her on Friday,” Billie snapped, taking a big bite of her toast.

Nicole burst into tears. She was probably on her period.

Despite being on her period, Billie still got chewed out for an hour by Wesley fucking Turner, and spent another half hour on the phone with her father, who confirmed he would be coming up a day early for visitors shit-fuck, which was barely three days away. With the knowledge that her father would be at camp in forty-eight hours, Billie begrudgingly apologised to Nicole and went to workout with the rest of her pool. Stevie wandered around them with the coach at her side, occasionally helping some of the kids with their sit-ups.

Billie was fine by herself. She completed all of the exercises quicker than the rest, and as a result was allowed to go run the track instead.

She was angry, she was fucking livid. Her father’s words were echoing through her head, along with Maxine’s. The redhead had been chatting in the background – Billie wanted to reach through the phone and throttle her.

It had been just over a week since Billie arrived at TCFTT. She fell into a routine, along with the rest of the camp, keeping her head down and trying to stay focused on the task at hand instead of thinking about Stevie’s pretty lips.

Despite Billie’s secret wishes and fantasies, Stevie always changed when Billie was either asleep, or out of the room. There was no pink bras or pale backs that Billie was allowed to touch. Only awkwardness, and the occasional conversation exchanged between them.

_This crush is getting out of hand_ , Billie thought.

Somebody breezed past her and Billie looked up in time to see Stephanie’s ass disappearing in front of her as she sprinted around the track. Grinding her teeth, Billie sped up as well, the wind blowing her golden curls behind her as she ran.

“Hey,” Stevie panted with a grin as Billie joined her at her side.

“Hey yourself,” Billie answered, feeling competitive. “Race me, princess.”

“First to do three,” Stevie said. They both stopped at the starting line, ignoring the curious eyes on them. “Dustin! Count us in, make sure we both–” She shot a glare at Billie, “–Do three laps.”

When the chubby kid shouted go, Billie jabbed Stevie in the side and ran as fast as she good. Stevie let out a cry of anger behind her, making Billie smirk. Billie was soon followed by the unmistakable sound of running behind her. She managed to make it back to the starting line, and was just beginning her second lap when a flash of brown hair came into her vision.

Stevie was fast – faster than Billie had expected. Soon, Stevie was passing her and jabbing Billie in the side too, a huge smile on her face. “What’s the matter, Hargrove?” Stevie called back to her. “Can’t catch up?”

_Fuck you_ , Billie thought, and sped up, her feet thudding against the damp green grass. She thought about Maxine’s distant laughs over the phone, and felt a surge of anger in her chest. _That bitch can be happy. I can’t._ Somehow, the anger made her run faster than she ever had before, and she was passing Stevie again, now reaching their third lap.

Stevie quickly covered the distance, and by the time the finish line came into view, they were neck and neck.

_You’re useless. You take after your slut of a mother_. Now Neil’s voice was taunting her, and Billie was pulling ahead, only metres away from the finish line and passing the rest of the Codfish pool and the people who had joined to watch and then–

And then a foot came out and tripped Billie up. She fell flat on her face and skidded across the grass, rolling once, twice, three times before coming to a stop on concrete, covered in mud. A concerned “ _Ooh_ ,” went up in the crowd. Billie looked up in time to see Stevie’s worried face passing her, crossing the finish line and winning their race.

Billie spat out mud and grass, sitting up and trying to ignore her stinging cheek, which was grazed from the heavy fall and sliding across the concrete surrounding the grassy running track.

“Are you okay?” Stevie asked, bending down in front of her, face flushed red and tongue out as she panted. Billie ignored her and instead gazed over the silent crowd, her eyes coming to a stop in front of a girl called Carol that Billie vaguely recognised. Hadn’t she punched her boyfriend once? Yeah, she had. She remembered Tommy, the guy that had tried to get in her pants, and his stupid freckled face.

“You fucking tripped me!” Billie shouted at the girl, who smiled but didn't deny it. In a flash, Billie was up and shoving Carol as hard as she could. The girl went down like a sack of bricks, but before Billie could get any hits in, arms were wrapping around her waist and holding her back.

“Stop it, Billie,” Stevie’s voice murmured into her ear. “She’s not worth it.”

“ _I was going to fucking win!”_ Billie roared at Carol.

It wasn't even about the fucking race. Billie was overly emotional, overcome by a tsunami of anger. She wanted to beat the hell out of this girl, and then fuck up Stevie’s pretty face as well, while she was at it. But Stevie was dragging her back with the help of another counsellor and a random boy Billie hadn’t met before. She struggled the entire way, and didn't stop shouting until she was sitting in the nurses office with four concerned faces looking down at her.

Stevie said, “You would have won. You’re the winner, in my mind,” and Billie huffed in annoyance. She let the nurse wrap a bandage around her skinned hands and knees, and barely even flinched when tweezers were taken to her cheek to start pulling out the pieces of gravel.

“I can do it,” Stevie told the nurse. “I’ll take her back to our cabin.”

Billie found herself sitting on Stephanie’s bed with her legs crossed, silently fuming as Stevie sat beside her, plucking out tiny rocks.

She really needed to cry.

“Your shirt is ripped,” The other girl murmured, plucking at Billie’s tattered blue shirt.

“Yeah,” Billie agreed.

“You should probably take it off. I can get someone to fix it.”

“Probably should,” Billie agreed again.

But she instead sat still, because as much as she would have liked to take her shirt off and exchange it for a fresh one, the wounds on her back had reopened during the fall. Billie’s father made sure she wouldn't forget he still had power over her for the summer. So, the night before she left for camp, he came into her bedroom with his belt.

There were several thick cuts, zigzagged across her back and shoulders. They had scabbed over a few nights ago, but were now bleeding again and staining her skin crimson. She couldn't let Stevie see the damage her father had done too her. What if Stevie told somebody? Told the _police_? Billie was eighteen in a few weeks – there wasn't even any _point_ reporting it. She could take the hits for a little while longer until she drove away and escaped from that hellish house she called her home.

“All done,” Stevie said after a while. Billie looked down at the little plate that was littered with tiny pieces of blood covered gravel, and winced. She wondered if the graze on her cheek looked bad, then asked herself if she cared. Because honestly? Billie was so exhausted from her week at TCFTT. A bone deep exhaustion, more than she could just sleep off. She didn't know what to do with herself, didn't know where to put her hands or how to look at Stephanie without her heart skipping a beat.

Stevie’s eyes were brown. Dark brown, the colour of chocolate. They held emotions and feelings, love and hate. Stevie’s eyes truly were a window to her soul… Billie wondered if her own eyes held so much truth. If so, then Stevie would have figured out Billie’s feelings ages ago.

The girl stood up, stretching – Billie raised her eyebrows when she heard the cracks sound from the her back – and rubbed her eyes. “You should probably change,” She told Billie, all casual-like. “I really will get someone to fix your shirt. And you’re covered in mud.”

Billie stared at Stevie’s lips, eyes wide. She didn't even realise she was gnawing on her own bottom lip until Stevie mimicked the action, a questioning look on her face. There was a small hint of blood on Stevie’s front tooth. “I...” Billie’s eyebrows knitted together. “Blood,” She said. _Smooth_. “There’s blood on your tooth. Did I– Did I do that?”

“Oh.” Stevie reached up and rubbed at her mouth. “Yeah, I think you did. You elbowed me back there, when you were trying to fight Carol. It’s cool, I know it was an accident.”

“Does it hurt?” Billie asked. Stevie’s lips were pale pink, yet the blood blended in perfectly with her plush lips. There was a small scab on her bottom lip as well.

“Nah, I’ve had worse.”

Billie’s eyes flicked back up to Stevie’s dark brown orbs. “Stephanie Harrington?” She teased. “Getting into fights, are we?”

“One fight, ages ago,” Stevie replied, grinning but looking sad. “A bitch called Joan.”

“Bitchy name.”

“Yeah, I know right? It was ages ago, though. Like, last year.” She shrugged absentmindedly. “You gonna change or what, because… I can leave?”

“Oh!” Remembering herself, Billie startled. “Yeah, I… I think I’m gonna have a shower, actually.”

She grabbed a random shirt that was sitting on her bed, along with a pair of shorts, and tucked them under her arm. “I’ll see you later?” She said, hating the way it came out needy and desperate. Of course they’d be seeing each other – they slept in the same room, for fucks sake.

“Yeah, see you,” Stevie answered. She sounded distant. Billie wondered if mentioning the fight had brought up bad memories or something, and opened her mouth to speak. But Stevie glanced away, so Billie closed her mouth with a snap and hugged her arms around herself. She gripped her clothes tightly, then turned and left, closing the door quietly behind her.


	7. Oxygen

**Stevie**

Visitors day was almost always chaos. Most of the campers didn't exactly get along with their parents, and spent the day avoiding them. Sometimes, a child from an abusive household would come through, and Stevie had to hold herself back as she watched the parent verbally abuse their child until the kid reacted. But, visitors day was also important for the campers, making the chaos worth it. Sometimes, a camper would realise how much they missed their parents during their time away, and would end up going home early. When that happened, the camper almost never returned to TCFTT, which was extremely satisfying.

The phones were ringing constantly, parents calling up to organise special lunches with their kids, or tours of the grounds. Stevie was stuck giving some of the parents a tour, which was one of the most dreaded jobs. Even mucking out the stables was better than that.

Speaking of the stables, that was exactly where Billie and Stevie were. Stevie was brushing Bean, and Billie was muttering angrily to herself as she cleaned out the stalls of horse shit. “You missed a spot,” Stevie told her, only to get Billie’s middle finger in return. She wanted to laugh, but the sound of a car approaching caught her attention instead. “Hey, somebody’s here,” Stevie said curiously. “They’re a day early.”

“Shit,” Billie muttered, dropping her rake and peeking out through the barn window. She visibly paled at the sight of the car. “That’s my dad.”

“Do you want to change?” Stevie asked, concerned at Billie’s unusual reaction. Billie looked down at her shit stained clothes, and shook her head.

“No point now,” She answered. “Just going to get dirty again.”

What the fuck did _that_ mean?

Stevie watched as Billie left the barn and walked towards the black ute, looking nervous. A strict looking man with a brown moustache and a rigid back stepped out of the car, arms crossed. Even from metres away, Stevie could see the anger in his eyes. “Billie,” The man said. “We need to talk. Wesley has told me some _very_ interesting information.”

Billie looked uncomfortable at that. She shifted on her feet and murmured something that Stevie didn't catch, then looked like she wished the ground would swallow her as the man raised his voice. “Not here, dad?” He snapped. Stevie guessed he was repeating what Billie had just murmured. “ _Not here, dad_?! How about a little respect, huh, Billie?”

“Well jeez!” Billie was raising her voice now too. “Forgive me for thinking that maybe I could call my father _dad_ just once, instead of sir! Fucking forgive me for trying! I’ll never remind you of the fact that we’re blood ever again!” She spat, looking both furious and like she was about to cry. Their argument was attracting the attention of other campers. Stevie could see spots of red on Billie’s father’s cheeks.

The man growled something in her ear that made Billie shrink away. He passed her, knocking shoulders roughly, and disappeared into Turner’s office. Stevie gnawed her bottom lip and exited the barn, approaching Billie like one would approach a wounded animal. “Hey,” She said softly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Harrington!” Billie snapped. “Just-- Just fucking leave me alone, okay? I’ll finish the stalls later.”

Then Billie was leaving as well, ignoring the eyes that followed her across the grounds as she went after her father into Turner’s office. Stevie was left standing in front of Billie’s father’s car, unsure what to do with herself. She eventually decided on turning and going back to the barn, finishing the barn that Billie had left half done.

When Billie returned to the cabin in the afternoon, her eyes were red like she had been crying. Her face was flushed and blotted, and her hair messy. She refused to catch Stevie’s eye, instead flopping onto her small bed and pulling the covers over her messy blonde curls.

She didn't move for hours.

That night, the clock struck eleven pm and Stevie was staring at the ceiling with bloodshot eyes. She found it hard to sleep, sometimes, when Barb’s corpse invaded her mind. She was just starting to drift off when she heard movement from the other side of the room. Billie got up like she was trying to be quiet, and crept around the room, gathering her stuff. Stevie didn't move, and tried to pretend she was asleep, but when she heard the creak of Billie’s bed, she opened her eyes again.

Stevie watched as Billie pulled on a pair of steel capped boots and began to tie the laces tightly, her jaw clenched. Billie then proceeded to shove stray clothes into her backpack and zip it up, wincing at the loud noise.

“Where are you going?” Stevie questioned as Billie stood up and started silently towards the door, her bag on her back. Billie stopped, looking tense, then slowly turned around.

“Didn’t know you were awake, Harrington,” She said, a cigarette tucked into the corner of her mouth.

“Where are you going?” Stevie repeated, firmer this time. She sat up and switched on the lamp.

“I’m getting the fuck out of here,” Billie answered. “I’m stealing my dad’s car and I’m fucking leaving.”

For some reason, the thought of Billie Hargrove leaving camp made Stevie’s blood run cold. She had grown attached to the blonde, even felt strangely protective over her. Despite only knowing her for a little over a week, Billie had quickly evolved into the person Stevie felt most comfortable with. The itching, uncomfortable feeling that Stevie had felt at first had been replaced with hazy warmth and comfort.

She didn't want Billie to leave. _She really didn't want Billie to leave_. Billie’s eyes had haunted her dreams for days now. She didn't know if she could just _let_ Billie walk away from her, not when she was feeling emotions for the girl that she hadn't felt for anyone since Nate.

Was it love? No, probably not, but it was better than nothing. The feelings had become Stevie’s air – and she wondered how she had lived without them for so long. Without the emotions – the emotions that _Billie_ caused – she would drown.

Drown like Barb had? In the cold lake, screaming for help but getting met with nothing but bubbles?

Or drown like Nate had? Stuck in a cluster of people, reaching for somebody to hold onto and grabbing onto the first person he could. The first person being Joan Byers, not Stevie, who had been right beside her.

Or… Would Stevie discover her own way of drowning? Would she throw herself into work and never feel another thing again? Would she live out her days as a robot, grasping onto feelings but never holding on? Because she let Billie leave. Because she felt some sort of connection to Billie after knowing her for barely a week, some sort of electricity between them.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Stevie jumped up and grabbed Billie’s arm tightly, then softened her grip as Billie let out a wince. “Wait,” She said, quietening her voice. “Just wait. I can’t let you do that. I can’t let you leave.”

“Turn a blind eye for fucking once!” Billie snapped, yanking her arm from Stevie’s grip and trying to turn away. As she did, Stevie pinched the sleeve of her denim jacket and it rode up, revealing the large bruise on her wrist.

Both of them fell silent. Stevie stared at the bruise, studying it. The sides were tinged yellow and green – the middle was a deep purple and blue.

“What…?” Stevie’s throat felt dry. She swallowed and tried again. “What happened? Who did this?”

Her mind spun with questions. Carol? Nicole or Tina? Maybe one of the boys had tried to – they wouldn't – but what if – “Tell me who did this!”

“I got into a fight,” Billie answered slowly. It sounded rehearsed, fake, but Stevie released Billie’s sleeve and let it fall down again anyway. “With some bitch who was telling me I’m worthless. I don't know her name. I’m fine, though.”

“You want to steal your dad’s car and go who-knows-where despite the fact the cops will probably be after you! You– You could go to juvie, Billie! You think this camp is bad? Going to juvie will fuck up your future! You’re clearly not fine, Billie. Stop trying to act like you are.”

“Then stop trying to sound like you care!” Billie snapped. “I’m leaving. I can’t fucking stay here anymore. Spending six more weeks in this hell hole is literally going to drive me insane. I’m leaving, Harrington, and I’m not going to look back.”

“I can’t let you do that,” Stevie said, her voice shaking dangerously. “You have to stay here.”

“There is literally nothing you can do that’ll make me stay,” The blonde snarled viciously.

Stevie didn't think. She yanked the cigarette out of Billie’s mouth, leaned forward, and kissed her.

Stevie was stuck in an ocean, and Billie?

Billie was oxygen.

She wasn't losing her.


	8. Mind Blowing Sex

**Billie**

The world became static.

White noise clouded the background as Stevie and Billie’s lips connected, Billie’s startling red against Stevie’s pale pink.

It took embarrassingly long for Billie to pull herself out of the trance and start to kiss Stevie back, dropping the bag as her hands moved to the other girls bony hips and gripped them tightly. She took one step backwards, then another, and let her back hit the door. With a hiss, she broke the kiss and squeezed her eyes shut as a ripple of pain shot up her body. “Fuck,” Billie whispered.

“I… Sorry– Shit,” Stevie muttered. “I’m sorry. I thought you liked me, did I… Did I overstep or something?”

She looked nervous, scared even. Billie ignored the pain and shot forwards, kissing and kissing Stevie until they finally broke apart. “No, no I like you,” Billie murmured. “I like you so fucking much, Harrington.”

“We’ve only known each other a week or two. This is weird.”

“You’re weird,” Billie answered on instinct.

“ _You’re_ weird!” Stevie protested, then laughed and stroked her messy ponytail. She rested her arms on Billie’s shoulders and hooked them around the back so Billie couldn't pull away. “Sorry, sorry. I just… I’ve never… With a girl… Never even _liked_ – because I’m not gay – but… I...”

“Stevie,” Billie interrupted. “Stevie. It doesn't matter. I don’t care about labels and all that shit. All that matters is you like me, and I like you. You like me, don't you?”

“Oh, so much,” Stevie insisted. She leaned down a little and pressed her soft lips against Billie’s. “So, so much. Even though I’ve only known you a week.”

“It feels like I’ve known you longer,” Billie answered, because it fucking _did_ , didn't it? Something about Stevie felt right, like they clicked together. Despite their limited knowledge of each other, Billie found herself wanting to stay with her for the rest of her life.

And. Like. Billie didn't believe in true love, or love at first sight, because that wasn't what it _was_ , but something it _could_ be. She believed that she could fall for Stevie, one day, if Stevie was okay with it. Or maybe Billie wouldn't be able to stop falling? Who knew?

“Same,” Stevie murmured. Billie moved her hands down, her thumb accidentally grazing over the front of Stevie’s baggy pyjama shorts, then held back a gasp as Stevie squirmed and bit her lip. It appeared the tiniest bit of friction was affecting Stevie – and Billie was going to do something about that.

“You know,” She whispered in Stevie’s ear. “We have this cabin all to ourselves… I could teach you a few things. About being with a girl, if you know what I mean?”

“I think I’d like that, Billie,” Stevie replied. She raised Billie’s shirt a little and ran her cold thumb over Billie’s exposed waist. She then slipped her hand under the waistband of Billie’s jeans and moved down, rubbing her fingers over Billie’s already wet underwear. Billie shivered at the touch and leaned forward, sinking her teeth into Stevie’s shirt and hiding her face in the girl’s shoulder.

Well.

It seemed Stevie didn't need many pointers after all. She was clearly doing fine by herself.

Stevie pulled her hand out from Billie’s jeans. They were already glistening when Billie glanced up – she buried her face in Stevie’s shoulder again and this time nibbled at the skin, embarrassed. Stevie let out a mixture of a yelp and a laugh when Billie’s teeth met her shoulder, then pushed her cold hand up Billie’s shirt. “I thought you’d be more dominant, baby girl,” Stevie murmured. “Thought I was going to have to fight for my place. But look at you right now – so cute, so shy.”

“Shut up,” Billie grumbled as a reply. But it was true, wasn't it? She usually was the top, the more dominant and masculine one in any relationship or one night stand she had ever had. Yet Stevie… Stevie made her want to submit, made her crave that sweet release of an orgasm more than she ever had.

“Now, see,” Stevie continued to speak as she ran her fingers along Billie’s ribs and underneath her breast. “I might not have ever _been_ with a girl, but I’ve heard things. _Lots_ of things.”

“Probably straight boys,” Billie mumbled, squirming under Stevie’s touch. “They think they know everything. It’s mostly–” Her breath hitched as Stevie rubbed along her erect nipple. “Its m-mostly wrong, anyway.”

“I see,” Stevie answered. “So _this_ is wrong?” She rubbed circles around Billie’s nipple with her thumb and pressed her face into Billie’s neck, sucking on the skin there softly.

“Oh god.” Billie felt her mouth go dry. “I… Oh _fuck_.”

“Oh?” The other girl seemed curious at Billie’s reaction to the stuff she was doing. “It doesn't seem very wrong, does it?”

“It’s not, stop being such a dick about– Jesus fucking _Christ_!” Billie yelped as she felt Stevie pinch her nipple, a scowl on her face when she looked at Billie. “What is _wrong_ with you?” Billie grumbled, then wanted to cry as Stevie started to pull her hand away. “Wait–” Stevie paused. “Okay, I’m sorry. I should never question your sources.”

“Damn straight.”

“Oh, babe,” Billie nibbled on Stevie’s ear. “ _Nothing_ about this is straight.”

She let Stevie shove her down onto the bed and kiss her senseless.

<><><><>

A loud bang on the door startled Billie awake. She blinked hazily and looked at her surroundings. _Stevie’s bed. Of course… Last night_. Memories of the night before came flooding back to her – Stevie’s fingers inside her, Billie’s tongue returning the favour, love bites along the thighs and quiet moans uttered from the girl’s mouths.

“Billie!” A voice shouted. A _male_ voice. Her dad. She sighed, then picked up her watch at looked at it. It had just passed six am.

“Y-yeah?” Billie’s voice was croaky. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Yeah? What?”

“Get dressed and then get out here. _Now_.”

Billie wanted to point out that she wasn't at home, and that her father wasn't the bloody boss of her. She also wanted to tell her dad that she was still recovering from mind blowing sex, and wasn't exactly ready to get up yet. But his feet were moving away, and Billie chose life, so she kept her mouth shut.

The bed was unsurprisingly cold and empty. Stevie’s shoes were gone as well, so either she had decided to go and demand a room change because she didn't like girls, or she had gone to check on the horses. Stevie was an early riser, after all, so Billie shouldn’t have felt so dismayed at the empty bed. It wasn't like she wanted cuddles or anything… It was just, the thought of waking up next to a peacefully asleep and still naked Stephanie Harrington was breathtaking.

Billie got dressed quickly, then glanced in the mirror to check that no hickeys were visible. They weren't, luckily – Stevie seemed to have a thing for leaving them on her chest and thighs, not her neck, so she was safe.

When she opened the door, a wave of cold air hit her. She shivered at the crisp morning air and looked up to see the sun barely beginning to peek over the mountains. “Fucking bullshit,” She muttered. “Thinks he can bloody boss me around.”

Her father, Neil, came around the corner with Wesley by his side. He spotted Billie and scowled, stomping towards her and grabbing her ear. She swore and tried to tug away. “Billie,” He snapped. “You and I… We’re going for a walk. We need to talk about Susan and Maxine. You had better not make a scene this time around.”

“Dad–” Billie started to complain, then stopped herself. “Sir,” She corrected herself. “All due respect, but it’s six in the bloody morning and I’m pretty sure my period is due in two days, so I’m not in the mood to go walking up a fucking mountain. I _won’t_ make a fucking ‘scene,’ I swear.”

“You watch your mouth,” Neil snapped. “And stop talking about periods, it’s disgusting.”

“Sorry,” She muttered. “ _Sir_.”

As she was walking towards the forest with Neil by her side, she caught Stevie’s eye. The brown-haired girl was refilling some water troughs in a paddock, surrounded by different coloured horses. Stevie blinked at her, then shot her a smile and questioning look. _Are you okay?_ Her face seemed to say. _Where are you going?_

_Walk. With my dad,_ Billie tried to send telepathically back. Amazingly, Stevie seemed to understand. She turned back to the horses. Billie longed to be with her, to talk about the night before and spend the day together. Instead, she was walking alongside her father into what was certainly a trap.

Three hours later, Billie returned to camp. She was limping, grunting with every movement as her back screamed in pain. Several people stared at her as she slowly made her way to the cabin, trying to avoid Stevie’s concerned eye. She entered the cabin and shut the door quietly before flopping down onto her stomach, because though it was bruised, it was better than the stinging pain of her blood covered back.

“ _I’m disowning you! I’m fucking disowning you! The moment you turn eighteen, you’re fucking leaving and you had better never come back!”_

Billie squeezed her eyes shut tightly, willing the tears the disappear. She didn't want to cry, not with Stevie ready to enter any moment.

“ _I can’t believe I raised a fucking dyke! A slut! A worthless piece of shit!”_

_Stop it_ , Billie thought firmly as Neil’s words echoed in her head. _Fucking stop it._

“ _Your mother was right to fucking leave! I wish I could too!”_

A sob escaped Billie’s lips. She raised her hands and tried to rub the tears away with her palms, sniffling pathetically.

And, like, Billie wasn't a crier. But sometimes, after a fight with her dad, she felt so overly emotional she exploded. She wanted to take her emotions out on fights, during sex, or a bottle of something suspicious. Anything better than crying. She wasn't supposed to fucking cry.

But she did, and she was, and Stevie opened the door. “Hey,” The girl said quietly, sounding concerned. “You… You okay?”

“Get out, Harrington!” Billie shouted. When Stevie made no move to go, she picked up a pillow and threw it at her. “I said, _get the fuck out_!” She screamed.

Stevie hurriedly closed the door with a _bang_ , leaving Billie alone with her thoughts.


	9. Jagged Lines

**Stevie**

As much as Stevie would have liked, she couldn't stay back that evening and find out what was wrong with Billie. It seemed that Billie didn't want help anyway… Maybe she just didn't want to see Stevie again, after the night before. Her heart ached at the thought – Billie already felt like a part of her, a mystery she had yet to solve. And Stephanie Harrington never left things half done.

Instead of staying back, Stevie instead gave a tour to the parents around camp who were visiting their children. Some of them, she noticed, instead sat on the benches underneath the trees without any campers beside them. Bad relationship with their kid, she supposed. Mr Hargrove was among those underneath the trees; he was sitting next to two women with startling red hair, one being a timid looking woman and the other being a grumpy looking preteen.

“This is Bean,” Stevie told the group of parents following her as Bean was led out by one of the other employees. “He’s a ten year old quarter horse. We adopted him two years ago. He knows plenty of tricks!” She scratched behind the horses ear affectionately. A small boy that was perched on a camper’s hip let out a gasp, and made grabby hands at the horse. Stevie let him pat Bean, then gathered them into the stable. “And this is where our horses sleep. Right now, most of them are out in the paddock, but when they are in here some of our specially chosen campers will look after them. We use our horses as a way of therapy for a lot of the campers here. Back when I was a camper at Turner’s Camp For Troubled Teens myself, I looked after a gorgeous pony named Buck. She was a bit anxious, but I managed to tame her and she did the same to me in return.”

Stevie took a moment to look around at the group around her. The kids seemed fascinated by the horses, the parents looking grateful at the thought of their problem children bonding with the gentle giants. The tour seemed to be going well. She continued to speak.

“Buck lives with an elderly couple and their grandson in Texas now,” She told them. “I went to visit her last year. She was extremely happy to see me, but had adopted the couple as her own. I wish I had adopted Buck myself, but,” She laughed. “My dad would _never_ let me get a horse. Now, if you’ll kindly follow me, I’ll show you to the Codfish cabins...”

By the time the tour was over and lunch was ready, Stevie’s mouth was hurting from smiling too much. She knocked quietly on the door to her cabin, and found it empty when she peeked inside. Once alone, Stevie ran a hand over her face and sighed. “Fuck,” She groaned. “Fucks sake...”

The night before was still fresh in Stevie’s mind as she laid on her back and stared up at the ceiling, exhausted. She closed her eyes and remembered Billie’s warm, wet tongue licking the sides of her thighs, blue eyes peeking over Stevie’s stomach just to wink at her. She remembered pressing her fingers inside Billie and sucking on her breasts until Billie came, her hands tangled tightly in Stevie’s hair as she screamed out in pleasure. She remembered Billie falling asleep beside her, and eventually rolling over to reveal long, jagged lines across her back, maybe caused by a whip or a belt. It broke Stevie’s heart to see Billie’s perfect, golden skin distressed with scars and cuts.

But Stevie rolled over onto her side and fell asleep. She didn't tell Billie she had seen, and she certainly didn't tell anyone else.

Now, a day later, guilt was beginning to play in Stevie’s mind. _Did Billie just do a lot of dumb stuff?_ She questioned. _Or… Or was it something else._ Someone _else._

There wasn't much one could do for someone like Billie, if she really was being abused. Everything about Billie screamed _rebel_. She was known around camp for getting into fights. Hell, a social worker would probably think she was either harming herself, or consenting to it. Billie didn't have any proof. _Stevie_ didn't even have proof. If Mr Hargrove really was abusive, they would need a witness and solid evidence. Both of which they didn't have, and, if Mr Hargrove was smart enough, never would.

A knock on her door jolted Stevie out of the dark place in her mind. She got up and unlocked it, finding a small, feisty looking redhead on her porch. “Um.” Stevie stared down at her. “Hello. Mess hall is that way. I’m actually on my break right now, but you can go talk to–”

“Is Billie in here?” The redhead asked. “Neil wants her. _Billie_!” She hollered, making Stevie jump. “Billie! You in here? Neil says that you have to attend lunch!” When the girl received no answer, she glanced up at Stevie. “Do you know where she is? If you find her, can you tell her Max is looking for her?”

“Uh, okay,” Stevie smiled. “Will do, honey. Thanks for stopping by. Mess hall is that way.”

“Yeah, I got that the first time,” The redhead – _Max_ – snapped, spinning on her heel and marching away, her hair bouncing. Stevie stared after her curiously. Was she Billie’s sister? They looked nothing alike, and Max had called Mr Hargrove _Neil_ , so Stevie was willing to bet that Max was her stepsister. Stevie didn't know Billie had a stepsister.

It occurred to her that she knew close to _nothing_ about Billie Hargrove. She shoved the thought out of her mind on pulled a pair of white trainers, deciding to go look for Billie herself before raising the alarm.

The first place Stevie checked was behind the barn, and it turned out to be the only place because Billie was crouched in the dirt, shakily smoking a cigarette and looking at war with herself. She glanced up at Stevie’s approaching footsteps, then looked back down. “What do you want?” Billie murmured.

“I just... A girl Max is looking for you. And I wanted to know if you were okay.”

“Maxine can piss off, and I’m _fine_.”

Stevie perched down in the dirt beside her and sat silently. When Billie finished her cigarette, Stevie wordlessly offered her one from her own pack, and Billie lit it with shaking hands. After a long time of silence, Stevie finally decided to speak up. “We need to talk.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Billie waved her hand. “I know whats coming. _Last night was a mistake, I don’t actually like girls. I’m sorry for leading you on. We can still be friends though!_ Heard it all before, Stephanie. It’s cool.”

“I...” Stevie was stumped, unsure what to say. “What? No. No! It’s not that. Last night wasn't a mistake, it was bloody amazing. I would never do that shit to you – use you as an experiment. I _know_ I like girls, Billie. It’s called being bisexual. Its when you like b–”

“I _know_ what bisexuality is, Harrington.”

“Right, right, yeah.” Stevie squirmed awkwardly. “As I was saying. It’s not about that. It’s about… There’s marks, all over your back. Someone is doing it to you, and I think I know who it is.”

Billie immediately tensed up at the mention of her back. She ground her cigarette out in the dirt and sat quietly for a moment, in contemplation. “Don’t,” She said through gritted teeth, “You _ever_ say that fucking shit again, got it? I’m fucking _fine_. Don’t need your pity.”

“So it is then,” Stevie replied. “It’s your dad. Neil Hargrove is abusing you.”

Billie didn't answer, but Stevie saw fear and anger swirling through her bright blue eyes. She looked away from Stevie and began to scratch a hole in the dirt with her finger, clearly trying to distract herself from the conversation. Her other hand was resting beside Stevie’s thigh, rings glinting up and scabs decorating the blonde’s knuckles.

Stevie hesitantly touched Billie’s hand with her pinkie, then pulled back when Billie flinched. She didn't want to take it to heart, but it was hard when Billie seemed even more tense at the thought of holding hands.

The blonde huffed. Stevie looked at her, and Billie nodded towards her hand. It was sitting in the dirt, palm facing up, practically inviting Stevie to hold it. Stevie tried to hide her smile and tangled their fingers together.

They sat in silence.

It was peaceful.


	10. Birthday Wishes And Midnight Confessions

**Billie**

Visitors day ended, as all things did. Billie shook her dad’s hand, tipped her chin at her step-motherSusan, and stared at Maxine, unsure what to do until Max suddenly gave her a fist bump and pissed off to the car. She then let Stevie clean her back, sinking her teeth into the pillow at the stinging pain, refusing to scream.

Stevie’s touch was tender, softer than anything Billie had felt before, besides, of course, the touch of her mother kissing her forehead. It was almost frightening, how sweet a single touch could feel on Billie’s skin, how the butterflies and mess of anger inside of her disappeared when Stevie’s skinny hand gripped her arm.

Turner’s Camp For Troubled Teens was supposed to last about six weeks. Three had already passed, and Billie found herself slowly becoming more and more infatuated with Stephanie Hargrove. And the craziest thing? If Stevie had pressed a soft kiss to her lips right then and there, and asked Billie to run away with her, Billie would have said _yes_.

But, of course, Stevie didn't ask that, so Billie did not agree. They just sat in their bedroom, hiding their relationship until night time, where they could smoke weed, staring at each through hazy clouds of grey wisps. Until they could kiss sensually and sweetly, not a care in the world as the dark faded into dawn and they realised they hadn't gotten a minute of sleep.

During the day, they acted like friends. _Best friends_. Billie had never had a best friend before, so whether it was true or not, it still felt nice. Their named moulded together perfectly, until you could rarely say one without the other.

_Billie and Stevie! Stevie and Billie!_

The best part? Rumours didn't even _dare_ nip at Stevie’s heels. Retired queen she might have been, but Stevie still held her head high. Everything about her screamed _straight_. No one in their right mind would think that a camp counsellor and an angry dyke were anything more than friends. To keep Stevie out of the spotlight as well, Billie continuously flirted with girls she knew didn't like her back, only to drag Stevie into the cabin later and kiss her senseless.

Everything about Stevie was fucking perfect. She was sweet, kind, understanding. A secret holder, but still an open book. She asked no questions, and in exchange, got no lies.

Camp would be over in nineteen days – not that Billie was counting. She wondered if Stevie would miss her when she left, then wondered if she even knew where she was going. Billie came to the conclusion that _no_ , Stevie wouldn't miss her at _all_ compared to how much Billie would, and that knowing where you were going to run was overrated. She was going to drive back to California, but that was about as far as her plan went.

Her birthday was tomorrow, as well. Eighteenth birthday. Yay. Freedom from this bullshit, from her father’s cruel reign and her step-family’s perfect image. She wouldn't look back, when she left. She would leave them in her dust.

Birthdays had always sucked for Billie. Well, since she was ten, at least. Before that, her mother had been around. Long, blonde hair and bright blue eyes that shone with happiness. Their birthday was on the same day. They used to celebrate it together, blowing out candles on cupcakes because they didn't have enough money for an actual cake, then sharing presents.

Billie tapped her necklace with her thumb. The last thing her mother gave her, before she left, was that necklace. _It was my grandmother’s_ , she had told Billie. _It’s a symbol of how much I’ll always love you_. Fake fucking words, because her she fucked off with some other guy, no communication apart from five minute calls with Neil hovering over her shoulder. Until, of course, she turned thirteen and her mum didn't call anymore, because Susan picked up the phone instead. Billie didn't understand while her mother was so pissed at Billie’s step-family. Billie hadn't been invited to her mother’s wedding _either_. _Hypocrite_.

It was easy to think bad words about her mama than it was to cry. She let the words get nastier, but never said them out loud. That… That was Neil’s job.

Billie didn't know how Stevie found out about her birthday. Probably looked it up in her files, the shithead. She didn't like the thought of Stevie doing that, of the girl sorting through and finding the story of how Billie had gotten herself thrown into camp in the first place. She’d think Billie was _insane_ , and _absolutely_ wouldn't believe that the fire wasn't her fault. Nevertheless, she found Billie’s birthday, and there was a chocolate cupcake sitting on her bed when Billie entered the cabin after a hard day of working for ‘ _therapy.’_

“What’s this?” Billie asked, confused as she stared at the cupcake. It was kind of cute. Chocolate, with white frosting and a pink candle stuck crookedly in the top.

“Happy birthday,” Stevie said, smiling. She then added, “Babe,” almost hesitantly.

“Ah, fuck.” Billie threw her jacket onto the floor and picked up the cupcake. “It’s real cute, Princess. You shouldn’t have.”

“Is that sarcasm?”

It was, but Stevie looked sad at the thought, so Billie shook her head. “No. It’s not. I love it, thank you.” She picked it up and toyed with the flame, running her short, bitten nails over the soft orange light. Suddenly, she stopped, and pulled her hand away. _Playing with fire… Literally_. If Stevie knew about her case, then playing with fire in front of her was a big no-no. She put the cupcake back down on the bench. “Hey,” Billie smiled. “Come here.”

Stevie hopped onto the bed next to her, their knees knocking together. “Make a wish.” Stevie grinned at Billie, shoving the cupcake into her hands. “Come _on_ , I made the cupcake myself. Make a wish.”

Billie stared at the candle, and closed her eyes. She thought long and hard about what she wanted, a goal that could be attained in the future. She had always wanted to get a bulldog. Was that a good wish? Or maybe new seats for her car, or a good pair of boots that weren't bloody falling apart.

So Billie squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as she could, trying to focus on those three things. As she blew out the candle, a different wish entered her mind, and she found it was the one she was repeating in her head as the flame was distinguished.

_I wish that Stephanie Harrington would fall in love with me._

That night, Stevie and her fingered each other until the bed was soaking and they were breathless, side by side, panting. Stevie’s hand found Billie’s in the darkness – she rolled over onto one side and pressed a kiss against Billie’s exposed neck. “You know,” Stevie whispered, her breath tickling Billie’s ear. “One day, I think I could.”

“Huh?” Confused and groggy, Billie wriggled over through the tangle of blankets she had knotted herself into, and pressed her nose against Stevie’s. “What are you going on about, babe?”

“One day. If this lasts. One day, I think I could fall in love with you. I think I could fall in love with not only your looks, but your personality. I think I could. I think I will.”

Billie was silent. The words, being whispered in the darkness, were everything she wished for. Hearing them spoken out loud was unreal, yet extremely satisfying. So she stroked Stevie’s long brown hair, tossed a leg over Stevie’s waist, and nuzzled into Stevie’s neck. “I think I could fall in love with you too, Stephanie. One day, I think I might.”

“Can’t wait,” Stevie replied.

The two of them fell asleep, listening to each other’s breathing as a lullaby.


	11. Making An Exception

**Stevie**

When people looked at Stephanie Harrington, the first thing she was associated with was anything but loneliness. But, in truth, Stevie had spent her entire life with nobody to turn to. From the cold emptiness of her manor to the frostbite words of Nate’s breakup speech, Stevie found herself without a single person who understood what she was feeling. Despite being surrounded by people, Stephanie Harrington was lonely.

But then Billie came along, and for some reason, made Stevie feel _alive_.

She liked Billie, but she knew that Billie Hargrove was different to the rest of the people. She stood out from the crowd, like a rainbow after a storm. No… That didn't quite compare to Billie. More like a flash of lightning, momentarily terrifying everyone, yet gone as quickly as it came, leaving behind the mere aftermath of its thunder. Billie was like lightning bolt in a storm. There was something about the girl, something about her storm of anger and difference that drew Stevie to her. As if Billie understood something that even Stevie had never understood about herself. As if Billie knew things that others didn't.

It made Stevie never want to let go.

The loneliness couldn't drown Stevie again – she would now always have Billie to give her air. To give her life.

Despite the conversation they had on the night of Billie’s birthday, their relationship barely changed. The next day, they woke up a tangle of limbs and knotty hair. Stevie, awake first, as usual, waited twenty minutes for Billie to awaken so they could go feed the horses. She waited patiently, listening to the singing of the birds outside her window and the stirring of the camp around her. The blankets were loosely draped around her, but tightly wrapped around Billie, who apparently didn't react well to the cold nights of Indiana. The girl had the blankets pulled up all the way to her nose, and only her eyes stuck out. Her long, dark eyelashes rested against her cheeks like sleeping butterflies. There was a golden lock brushing the tip of her eyebrow, so Stevie reached down and brushed it away, tucking it behind Billie’s ear.

Billie groaned then, opening her eyes and blinking in the bright light. Stevie looked down at her, her heart filled with such adoration it was hard to keep herself from leaning down and kissing the blonde’s lip. Hard? Impossible, more like, as Stevie greeted Billie with a morning kiss. “Morning,” Stevie murmured. Billie chuckled, pressing her nose against Stevie’s neck like she had last night.

“Too fucking early,” Billie grumbled. She was extremely cute in the mornings (which was a word not usually associated with Billie Hargrove, who had a reputation for getting into fights). She mumbled and confused her words. Without her morning cigarette and black coffee, Billie was practically a sunbathed cat. “We should just, like, go back to sleep. For like, fifty years. For forever.”

“Sounds nice,” Stevie replied, accidentally letting some sarcasm slip. She too wasn't great with mornings either. She had been, once, but with Billie asleep on top of her, usually the thought of getting up made her extremely irritable.

Billie, clearly not liking the sound of Stevie’s tone, sunk her teeth into Stevie’s sensitive neck. Stevie let out a yelp, then laughed and shoved the other girl away. “Have to get up, Billie,” She sang, already pushing herself up to grab a yellow sweater from the floor. “I have a lot of stuff to do today. And _you_ have art class, followed by group therapy.”

Billie, having been in the process of also attempting to get up, let out a loud groan and flopped back onto the bed. She pulled the pillow over her head and screamed into it. Stevie couldn't understand much of it, but concluded that it was something along the lines of “I fucking _hate_ therapy!”

With a giggle, Stevie patted Billie’s chest and got up. She dug through her drawers until she found an appropriate pair of jeans, then tugged them on and tried to fix her hair. It was knotty and tangled, even sticky with some drool in certain parts, but Stevie managed to tame her mess into something tolerable. Now with clothes on and her hair pulled back into a ponytail, she turned to the most difficult task of all – getting Billie Hargrove out of bed.

“Come on,” Stevie whined, shaking the blonde. “You have to get _up_!”

Billie yelped at the motion, and Stevie yanked her hand back at the sound. As Stevie took a step back, Billie let out a hiss of pain and sat up, reaching around to softly press at her scarred back. “Ah, _fuck_ ,” The blonde muttered, barely loud enough for Stevie to hear. “I think they’re getting infected.”

“What? How? It’s been so long!”

“The scabs rubbed off before they healed,” Billie answered. “Something my body didn't agree with touched the wounds. Now I think they might be infected.” Billie shook her head absentmindedly, then pulled her shaking hand back to reveal blood. Stevie gaped, and rushed forward. She studied the blood on Billie’s hands, glaring at it as if it would disappear with her stare. When that didn't seem to work, she rubbed her thumb over Billie’s palm and tried to think of ways to fix it.

“I don’t know how to help,” She told Billie, who simply ignored her.

“I bled on your bed.”

“We’re going to have to take you to someone.”

“It’s going to stain.”

“Billie! I’m taking you to the nurse!”

“No,” Billie snapped, finally looking up. “Nurses ask too many questions. I’ll clean them myself.”

“At least let me look,” Stevie replied, intending to go and get the nurse herself. Billie let out a long sigh, but tenderly took her shirt off to reveal her back, which was starting to turn a nasty red colour due to the cuts on her back. When Stevie reached out to touch the marks, she was met with a strange sort of heat radiating off them. There was strange yellow liquid leaking out of the wounds. Even without any experience with infections, Stevie could tell it was bad. “It’s not good,” She said quietly. “I think you need to go to the nurse. For real.”

“Too many q–”

“I know, I _know_ , too many questions. But this is serious. Your back is burning up. There’s pus!”

Billie was silent then. Even with her back to her, Stevie could tell Billie was pondering the pros and cons of going to the nurse. After a long while of quiet, Billie finally put her shirt back on and turned around. “If there’s _one_ question, I’m leaving. And you can’t make me go back.”

“I wont,” Stevie whispered, pressing a kiss to Billie’s cheek. “I promise. Come on, I’m taking you to the nurse.”

<><><><>

Stevie sat outside the office as Billie talked to her father on the phone. Despite not being able to make out most of the words, Stevie had concluded that Mr Hargrove was strangely angry at Billie for her wounds getting infected. Stevie’s hands itched to strangle that man – that piece of shit was going to get what was coming to him for doing what he did to Billie. While Stevie wasn't usually a violent person, and didn't agree with murder, Mr Hargrove was the exception.

There were a lot of _Yes sir_ ’s, and _No sir_ ’s in the conversation. Eventually, the room was silent, and there was the unmistakable click of Billie slamming the phone back onto the receiver. Mr Turner’s gruff voice started to speak, and Stevie tried to tune herself out by attempting to remember the plot of _To Kill A Mockingbird_.

Eventually, Billie opened the door to Turner’s office and stepped out. She was holding her head high, yet still wincing and stiff with every movement, due to the rubbing of the bandages and the cream Stevie had seen the nurse apply. Stevie took one look at her, rubbed her hand in a comforting manner, and entered the office to tell Mr Turner that Billie Hargrove was getting abused at home.


	12. From Prisoner To Dirty Cop To Warden

**Billie**

She was moving out.

There was no point sticking around, Billie decided. Waiting until she had enough money for the first few months rent was useless, considering she didn't have a job aside from occasionally beating people up for cash, back in California. She had had jobs before, of course. If dealing drugs and blackmailing people counted as a job… Which, according to the cops, it probably didn't. The only _real_ job Billie had ever had was working at a hardware store… And look how _that_ turned out.

She had two-thousand dollars locked tightly in a bank account, given to her by her mother on her tenth birthday and hopefully not taken back. It wasn’t much, and she had wanted to spend it on something cool, like put it together for a new car or even fixing up her old camaro, but if it had to be spent on getting her out of the house and living decently until she got a job, then so be it.

When camp ended, Billie was leaving. She was catching the bus back to the station, where her car sat in the car park waiting patiently for her. Then, she would be on the road back to California to make one last visit to her father. Probably to punch him in the face. She’d grab her shit, and then it would just be her and her car. She knew there were better ways of living. She knew the most logical conclusion was to stay with her father for a few more months. But Billie wasn't sure if she could handle another day underneath that roof, let alone months. Besides, he’d demand cash. Payment. Rent. Which was perfectly reasonable, of course, but if Neil was deciding the price… Well, then, Billie would have lost all her saved cash within a week.

There were two reasons why Billie hadn't already left Turner’s Camp For Troubled Teens and hitchhiked back. One of these reasons was the fact she had signed a contract and actually couldn’t legally leave the camp unless let out early by Turner himself. It was, after all, practically a punishment and a substitute for juvie. Running away would result in cops, court, and probably even jail. Billie was a bad kid, but what had happened wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t started that fire… Well she had, it was her cigarette, but it was Max’s fault. Not hers.

The other, more important reason was the brown haired girl who walked with her head held high, as if she still held the glittering crown. Stephanie Harrington was gorgeous in every way, and Billie… Well, Billie was feeling things she had never felt before.

Billie let Stephanie caress her hand, which was a nice gesture when the strange look on Stevie’s face was ignored. Without questioning her, Billie then let her pass, and listened to the door close quietly behind her.

As much as Billie wanted to stick around and find out what was going on, why Stevie had entered Turner’s office with a strangely blank look on her face, she had a group therapy session in twelve minutes. And the last time she was late, she had to _name her feelings_ in front of everybody. Therapy was a fucking joke. Humiliation, more like.

Even though Billie was extremely vocal about thinking it was stupid, it was a compulsory activity. So Billie made her way to her session and sat down surrounded by other troubled teens, and got taught how to calmly breathe by some hippie who peaked in her teens (“From the chest, darling, _the chest_.”). She spent an hour with her pool, then another half in the mess hall, trying to push her way through the crowd of people to find a fucking table. After too long without seeing Stevie, Billie finally arrived at their shared cabin to find the girl sitting on the bed, wearing one of Billie’s shirts and still reading _How To Kill A Mockingbird_.

“Hey,” Billie said after tossing her jacket onto the bed and closing the door. “What did you talk to Turner about? Or is he the guy you sacrifice campers to? You know, so he can stay on earth and keep torturing us? Oh, wait, does he pay you in new knitting needles?”

“Ha ha,” Stevie replied sarcastically. “We don’t sacrifice anyone and for the last time, _I don't knit_.”

“Okay, okay, jeez.” Billie walked over and crawled onto Stevie’s lap, trying hard not to look too clingy or apologetic. Which was hard to do, as she was pressing her face into the older girl’s chest and wrapping her legs tightly around her waist. “I was kidding. You’re sensitive tonight. Whats wrong with you?”

“My girlfriend is being abused by her dad and her wounds are infected. And when I told my boss, he says I can’t report it to the cops because she’s eighteen and there’s no solid proof,” Stevie answered without missing a beat.

Billie felt her blood run cold. Slowly, she pulled away from Stevie, eyes wide and lips parted. “What…?” Billie whispered, her voice hoarse. “You did _what_?”

“I can’t put up with this anymore,” Stevie replied, putting her book down on the mattress. She looked _exhausted_. Her hair was messy, and there were dark circles under her eyes. “I can’t...” She continued. “I can’t fucking do this shit anymore, okay? I tried not to tell anyone. To keep it a secret, because I thought that’s what you wanted, but–”

“That is what I wanted, you prick!” Billie snapped, standing up and grabbing one of the pillows from behind Stevie head. The girl’s head fell back, and she let out a loud curse word.

“Don’t fucking do that, Billie–”

“ _One thing_!” Billie screamed, tossing the pillow onto her abandoned cot in the corner. “One fucking thing! I ask you to do one thing, and you piss off to tell that piece of shit! Turner won’t not tell the cops because of _no evidence_. I _know_ that prick! Have since I was a kid! He thinks that the shit my dad does to me, the belts, the slaps, and those fucking _words–_ ” Billie found that she was blinking back tears, but continued to speak. “He thinks that my dad is raising me right. Turner doesn’t want to help kids, you dumb fuck! Especially not me!”

Billie’s voice cracked as she yelled. Tears pricked at her eyes and spilled out, rolling down her cheeks in big, fat drop. Stevie stared up at her, her mouth fallen open in a large _O_. She looked both apologetic and horrified at Billie’s words. “I can’t believe… There’s no way...”

“This whole thing?” Billie raised her arms and spun around, gesturing towards the camp around her. “This whole thing, Stephanie? It’s a _scam_. This camp doesn’t _fix_ them. It fucks them up more! If there are people who don’t return, you shouldn’t be happy. You should be worried. They’re probably fucking dead! Either that or prison.”

“You… I… It’s not...” Stevie stumbled over her words, her own tears running town her cheeks as she fumbled to form a sentence. “I– I was a c-camper here. It helped me.”

“Did it?” Billie moved forward, a surge of anger spiking through her chest. “Or did it help you hide your true self?”

“It helped!” Stevie shrieked, standing up. “It helped! How can you say that shit? Of _course_ it helped!”

“Don’t play that _good girl_ shit with me, Harrington. I’ve heard rumours.”

And she had. Whispers as she passed by lunch tables, talking about Stephanie Harrington, the bad girl turned good. The woman who was once on the inside, sneaking them weed and alcohol until some incident the year beforehand. Stephanie Harrington, prisoner turned dirty cop turned warden.

But then something changed. The details were fuzzed, and it was close to impossible to tell what was truth and what was rumour, but something had changed. And Stevie turned good for _real_.

“W-what?” Stevie choked, and Billie snapped her attention back towards her. “What did you hear?”

“All sorts of things,” Billie answered. “I don't know what’s true and what’s not, but I’ve heard a lot. And most of them… Well, most of them say you _killed_ someone. So who was it? Did you _like_ killing them?”

Stevie began to sob. The girl hid her face in a pillow and screamed. The sound came out muffled. Billie was shocked as she stared at the usually calm and collected girl break down right in front of her. She had stepped over the line, and she knew it.

The overwhelming desire to hold Stevie overtook Billie’s body, causing her to step forwards. She reached down, her hand barely connecting with the other’s soft brown hair before Stevie flinched away from her. “Get out.” Stevie looked up, her face red and puffy from the tears. “Get the hell out of my cabin.”

“I didn’t...” Billie trailed off.

“You didn’t what, Billie? You didn’t _what_?”

“I didn’t mean to… Hurt you. I thought it was just a rumour, I...”

“You have no clue,” Stevie hissed at her as her face formed into a terrifying glare that had Billie stepping back, eyes wide. “What it’s like. I didn’t kill Barb. Or at least I didn’t… Mean to...”

“So you did kill somebody.” Billie whistled. “Shit.”

“Get out!” Stevie snapped. “I don’t need you here! Do you hear me? _I don’t need you here_. Not when you were screaming at me for trying to help you a couple of minutes ago. How do I do this, Billie? _How do I do_ this? Because I don’t know how I’m supposed to fall in love with you, not when you’re just...” Stevie looked as if she was struggling to find the right words. “You’re just...”

“A fuck up,” Billie supplied quietly. Her heart was punching at her rib cage and there was ringing in her ears. “I’m just a fuck up.”

“Angry...” Stevie settled on. “You’re just angry. And I don’t know how to fix it.”

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to fall in love with you either!” Billie snapped. “How do I fall in love with _you_? Look at you!” She gestured towards Stevie. “You’re selfish and horrible and mean and you hide behind a smile, every day, and everyone acts like you’re an angel when… Well, look at you!” She was screaming now, tears streaming down her face as she did. “You’re a fucking _demon_! No wonder your parents let you work here every year. All you fucking do is take and take and never give. Take people’s happiness and apparently take lives.”

Stevie fell silent, and Billie knew she had gone too far. She opened her mouth to apologise, only to be interrupted. “ _SHUT UP_!” Stevie screamed. “ _JUST FUCKING SHUT UP_! You have no clue what it’s like, to accidentally kill someone. So just take your shit and _get out_!”

Billie felt a surge of anger. She let out a low growl and then laughed bitterly. “No idea what it’s like?” She cackled. “Babe, did you _read_ my file? Do you know what I’m in this fucking torture camp for? Huh?”

“Get out–” Stevie tried to say, but by now, Billie was rambling. She was _furious_ , furious at Stevie for telling Turner, furious at her for acting like Billie’s life was all fun and games compared to hers.

“I fucking killed someone too,” Billie hissed. “Burned him alive. And listened to his screams.”


	13. You Can Change

**Stevie**

Sometimes, it was hard to tell what was real and what wasn't.

Stephanie’s dreams blurred with her reality, a mixture of thoughts that formed nothing but mess. She found herself numb, completing her daily chores blankly then returning to her cabin to crawl into bed and wrap herself in blankets. There, she dreamed… Or maybe remembered. She didn't know what the truth really was.

Once, Stevie had thought to herself that she would drown without Billie. Live out her days as a robot, grasping onto emotions but never catching them. She hadn’t figured out if that was true either.

She went about her days, only talking to Billie when she really needed to. In fact, Turner had moved Billie out of Stevie’s cabin and back to the Codfish pool’s girls, where the curtain was to remain drawn at all times. The blonde seemed just as furious at Stevie as Stevie was with her. Clearly, they both thought the other was in the wrong.

After Billie’s words during their fight, Stevie had to fight back the urge to go and read her file. She had a rule that she never read the files on the group she was looking after, believing it would just give her the wrong impression and cause her to judge someone on their past actions instead of their future ones. But the way Billie had spoken, her bright blue eyes going dark, made Stevie want to know what happened. She had wanted Billie to tell her in her own time, back when they were… Well…

Another thing was that Stevie wasn't even sure if they had broken up. They just… Didn't talk. When they did, it was short and clipped. Stevie talked to _Carol_ more than she talked to the girl she had called her girlfriend. And Carol was a _bitch_.

Sometimes, Stevie felt as if her skin was too tight for her body. It made her want to itch, to scream, to dunk her head in freezing cold water and try to discover what Barb had felt in her last moments.

She almost always felt like that when Billie Hargrove was in her presence.

The rest of the camp had seemed to notice the tension between them as well, because people were starting to approach her and whisper rumours about Billie into Stevie’s ear again. Stevie found herself silent, listening to what the people were saying. Most of it was about Billie being in love with Stevie and Stevie finding out, which Stevie neither confirmed or denied. Some of the rumours were simply ridiculous, sometimes being about Billie being in the porn business or getting kicked out of camp, despite the fact she was clearly still walking around. Still, Stevie kept her mouth shut. Billie deserved the things that were being said about her. She had said horrible things to Stevie’s face, things that not even her asshole of a father would say to her. She wasn't a good person.

Despite being picked on and bullied, Billie seemed to be fine. With just over a week until camp ended, she even seemed to be _happier_ than usual. Or maybe she was high. Stevie had no clue where she was getting drugs, if she _was_ high, but it made her want to punch someone. Or sue them with her father’s money. She wasn't really one to get into fights. Billie’s pupils were huge all the time, and she seemed to be less alert and tense. When somebody approached her after therapy two days ago, saying that she just needed to feel a boy to know what it was like, Billie simply let out a lazy grin and laughed. Stevie saw the whole thing from the Feelings Board.

At lunch, with six days until the end of camp, Stevie went to Candice’s office and made a phone call. Her mother answered the phone with a rather absent greeting. She sounded drunk again, which made Stevie scrunch her nose up in disgust. “Hey mum!” She said, forcing herself to sound happy. “Just checking if you and dad are going to be home when I get back.”

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” Her mother slurred over the phone. “Your father’s got a _big business_ trip in Italy, I have to go make sure he doesn’t–” There was a scuffle, then a huff of anger, and a gruff voice filled Stevie’s ear.

“Stephanie.” Her father was now on the phone, sounding just as uptight and bitchy as ever. “You are not to make a fuss because we’ll be gone. You’re the one who wanted to get a job at the camp anyway. I told you, you should just find a nice _man_ instead of roughing yourself up working with those animals and troubled teens.”

“Dad,” Stevie said, grinding her teeth. “I _like_ working here, okay? Would you just butt out for a second? I just wanted to know if my parents would be home after not seeing me for months.”

“This business trip is important.”

“So am I!”

“Stephanie–”

“ _Dad_ ,” Stevie said, as if that meant anything. The line was silent for a while, and Stevie let out a long sigh. “Fine. _Whatever_. I don’t care. Just don’t get anyone pregnant, and don’t let mum be alone at a bar again.”

With that, she slammed the phone down on the receiver and resisted the urge to scream at the sky. She wanted to smash something to death with a bat. Instead, she turned, ready to go and brush the _hell_ out of some horses.

Except, Billie Hargrove was in her way. And she was dripping water everywhere.

For a moment, Stevie froze. Billie looked like Barb did, when they had pulled her out of the water. Soaking wet, with blue lips, pale skin, and red eyes. Dead, she was dead, Billie was dead–

Until it occurred to her that Billie was shivering, and making a move to push past Stevie. “ _Get out of my fucking way_ ,” Billie hissed up at her, her blue eyes pierced into a death glare. “ _Because if I don’t get a fucking towel within ten seconds, I’m going to kill someone_.”

Stevie stood to the side as Candice, the secretary, rushed to get a towel. It was the first time that Billie had spoken to her in weeks without using short, clipped sentences. And yes, the words that Billie had spoken were mean, scary even, but Stevie still felt a surge of warmth inside her. Billie had _spoken_ to her.

On instinct, Stevie unbuttoned her cardigan and draped it over the shivering girl’s shoulders, taking a seat beside her. Billie tensed as the cardigan was placed on her shoulders, then relaxed and wrapped it around her. “Thanks,” She muttered, not looking Stevie in the eye. Stevie wanted to smile, but instead crossed her legs and sat in silence. She didn't want to ruin their soft moment by opening her dumb mouth to ask what happened or if they could give dating a try again. The pair just sat on the plastic blue chairs, without speaking, and waited for Candice to return.

The secretary did, eventually. She gave Stevie a funny look when she saw the jacket, but wrapped Billie up in a towel and leaned down in front of her. “Do you want to tell me what happened, honey?” She asked in a soft voice that made Stevie raise her eyebrows. Billie wasn't going to like that–

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Billie snapped. “But I went for a refreshing fucking swim in the lake.”

“Alright, lets get you to the nurse, then,” Candice said, ignoring the swearword. Stevie got up then, clearing her throat awkwardly. She looked down at the two of them, then shot Billie a look that meant d _o you want me to come with you?_ but probably came out as _are you okay?_ Billie glared up at the two of them, then stood up and shivered.

“I can go myself,” She announced sharply, turning on her heel. It was a wonder she managed to speak without stuttering.

Stevie let out a sigh. She knew that Billie was stubborn, and probably wouldn't tell the nurse what really happened. So she followed Billie into the nurses office, ignoring the curious look that Candice shot her.

Billie was sitting on the bed, dripping water everywhere, while the nurse checked her temperature. When the nurse saw Stevie, she sighed in relief. “Stephanie,” She said, her red lips spread into a smile. “Good. Could you go and get some of Billie’s clothes from her room? She refuses to wear any of the stuff I have here, and if she keeps wearing those wet clothes then she’s going to get pneumonia. I’d _hate_ to explain to her father that she both has scars on her back and a serious illness from our camp.”

“Of course,” Stevie agreed, whilst Billie snorted and muttered something like “ _Yeah, my dad will_ really _fucking care_.”

The Codfish girls cabin was a mess of makeup, clothes, and the scent of perfume. Though they had to clean the room once a week and underwent room searches, the girls still managed to make a mess within a few hours after cleaning it. Vicky, Tina, and Nicole looked up when Stevie entered. They were all sitting on one bed, looking through what appeared to be a magazine. Stevie stared at them, then looked over at the drawn curtain all the way across the room. She smiled at the girls and pulled back the curtain to reveal Billie’s bed. It was made with a sort of pristine perfection that Stevie would expect from someone in the military. There were barely any personal objects to be seen, just a stack of books that Billie had apparently borrowed from the camp library. The poster that was supposed to be uplifting and stuck to the wall above every bed had been taken down, rolled neatly and tied with a rubber band. It was a little strange to see a bed without _You CAN change!_ Written in bold writing on a yellow background over the top of it.

Stevie spotted the small bag, half hidden under Billie’s bed, and pulled it out. She grabbed a random assortment of clothes for Billie, and tucked the pile under her arm. She then left, tugging the curtain back behind her.

“Okay,” She said, standing in front of the girls. “If any of you know why Billie Hargrove is sitting in the nurses office dripping with lake water, you had better speak up now.”

They were silent.

“I’m not messing around, girls,” Stevie snapped. “I can ask around and get the answers in ten minutes, so one of you had better confess or you’ll all be in deep trouble.”

“Carol and Nicole did it!” Vicky blurted. Nicole slapped her leg while Tina looked sheepishly to the side.

“Did what? Push her in?” Stevie shifted on her feet. She needed to get back and give Billie the clothes, but she needed answers as well.

“It wasn't like that,” Vicky murmured. Nicole hit her again, but stilled at Stevie’s glare. Vicky continued to speak. “She’s been doing stuff. Dares. For...”

“Vicky!” Tina growled out of the side of her mouth.

“Let her speak.”

“Nothing,” Vicky said. “Never mind. She just does dares for fun, I guess. So Carol and Nickole dared her to jump in the lake and she did. It was her choice.”

“I’m going to find out why she did it,” Stevie told them. She took one last look at the girls in front of her, all looking equally guilty and nervous, then turned on her heel and stomped away. It was easy to hate Tina, Nicole and Vicky. They were mean and rude and made Stevie want to jump off a cliff.

She returned to the office to find Billie missing. The nurse nodded towards the shut bathroom door and Stevie tipped her chin in understanding, then knocked. “Uh… Billie? I have your clothes?”

A hand came out from behind the door, palm face upwards. When Stevie placed the bundle in the hand, Billie drew it back and slammed the door. Two minutes later, she came out dressed and looked exhausted. Her hair was dried, but frizzed and messy, a strange sight for Stevie since she usually saw Billie was her golden locks styled to perfection. She scowled at the nurse and Stevie, wrapping her arms around herself.

“What happened?” Stevie asked.

“Oh, fuck off, Harrington,” Billie answered. She tucked the bundle of wet clothes under her arm as her lips curled upwards into a snarl. “I’m not fucking talking to you.”

The blonde stomped off, presumably towards the cabin. Stevie turned and looked at the nurse. “Can I ask you something?” She asked, reading the name tag. “...Joyce?”

“Yes, of course,” The woman answered, closing the file she was studying with a snap.

“Billie Hargrove… Did she seem… Off, to you? Like… Blank, maybe?”

“A little bit. She’s always a bit blank and distant when she’s here.”

“I think she might be high,” Stevie murmured. “Her pupils are all wide and she’s been acting weird for the past few days.”

The nurse was silent for a moment, before she said, “Have you read her file?” When Stevie shook her head, Joyce handed her a folder and shuddered. “She’s done some bad stuff. Stuff that’ll take a toll on a person after a while. I had to bring a doctor in a week or two ago, and he prescribed her with medication. For her anger. Mood stabilisers, technically. I think she’s been acting _weird_ because she’s started to take her medication. It’s a good thing.”

“Oh.” Stevie looked down at the folder in her hands. _Billie was on mood stabilisers_? She then tried to hand the file back to Joyce. The woman shook her head.

“No, no. You two were friends. I know you never checked this out of the office, but I think it’s time for you to read. To understand her a little more. I don’t know what you two have been fighting about, but maybe when you read this, you’ll understand and accept her personality a little more. You two were great friends. I miss when you used to bring Billie in, acting all supportive of her and so worried you didn't even notice me. It was nice to watch, to see someone like you taking a girl like Billie under your wing. The things both of you have been through...” Joyce hesitated for a moment. “Well. They’re almost the same. I just wanted you to know that.”

Stevie gripped the folder tightly to her chest. “I don’t read the files unless its to check their birthdays or something. I try not to judge them.”

“Well.” Joyce held up her hands. “Just an idea. Think about it.”


	14. Recklessness

**Billie**

If there was ever a low point in Billie’s life, jumping into a freezing cold lake for a packet of cigarettes was it. And yet, she felt strangely satisfied, if not a little proud, as she towel dried her hair and glanced down at the cigarettes. Maybe there could have been other places, other ways to get smokes, but most of those ways included cash, something that Billie had very little of. All the money in her bank account was for getting her the fuck out of her father’s house, so she had to find other ways to get her hands on cigarettes. Doing dares was the easiest way without money.

Since her and Stevie broke up, Billie had been feeling a strange sense of recklessness. Or maybe it was hopelessness. Either way, she found she didn't care about things as much as she had before. When her and Stevie were dating, things had been so complicated, yet simple at the same time. She had cared. And now… Now, she didn't. Which could just be the medication doing its work, or could be Billie shutting herself down slowly now that she had lost Stevie.

Billie was scarred, on both her heart and her body. She was scarred and hopeless and broken and it was no fucking wonder Stevie didn't want her. She was a fuck up. A piece of shit, just like her mother had been. All she knew how to do was leave, mess up, or both.

She adored Stevie, but _fuck_ , she hated her. Hated the words that Stevie spat at her, all those nights ago. Hated Stevie’s deep brown eyes, full of hurt and terror. Hated that despite Stevie being a terrible person as well, she was angry at Billie. Hated that Stevie was _such a fucking hypocrite_.

They were both killers with rumours buzzing around them. They both had shitty parents. They were both reckless and stupid and impossible to control. It was like they were made for each other, were supposed to fit together. Except… Except they didn't, because they were more like fire and water than two pieces of the same puzzle. Because while Stevie was the sun that rose every morning and chased away the darkness, Billie was the sun that set every evening and invited the monsters to play. Light and dark didn't fit together. In the end, they just cancelled each other out.

And now, Billie found herself alone with her thoughts, hidden away from the rest of the room by a curtain. She ran her hand over the itchy, blue blanket that was folded tightly on top of the bed, and picked at some fluff. She sighed.

Fucking Stephanie Harrington and those brown eyes.

It was close to impossible to keep Billie from thinking about her. Even with the help of mind numbing medication and stinging nicotine, Stevie haunted the crevices of Billie’s mind. Every corner Billie turned to forget her, there she was, standing there with her brown eyes and too-big nose and a smile like a sunrise. You couldn't just _forget_ Stephanie Harrington, Billie was learning. Who would even want to forget an angel?

Billie closed her eyes, sunk her head into her pillow, then opened them again. Her blonde hair tickled at her cheek, and several strands felt tight and uncomfortable against the white pillow. Yet, she stayed there, staring up at the ceiling, with its strange patterns and pitiful light bulbs above each bed. Eleven days ago, she would have been pressed up against Stevie’s side, breathing in the perfume that she would spray after having a cigarette or two. Eleven days ago, Billie wouldn’t have been stuck in the tiny little cut off section of the girls cabin. She wished she could take it back. Wished all the stuff the pair of them had said could just be forgotten, blown away like dust in the wind.

_How do I stop myself from feeling like this?_ Billie thought. _How do I stop wanting you back?_

The next day, Billie woke up to the sound of Stephanie talking to the other girls. “Listen,” The girl was saying. “No, Nicole, listen. Billie Hargrove isn’t some sort of _freak_ that I’ll let you do anything you want with. If I find out over the next week that _any_ of you have been daring her to do stuff again so she can get her hands on cigarettes, you’ll all be in deep shit and I’ll make sure that you come back again next year. Got it?” There was a pause, followed by the sound of mumbling. Stevie scoffed. “I’m well aware she’s a lesbian, Tina. In fact, I’m pretty sure the whole bloody world knows. But there is nothing wrong with that. Trust me, the punishments will be a lot worse if you all continue to torment her.”

“She’s tormenting us!” Someone, probably Nicole, protested. “We just say things. She’s the one who gets into fights and hits people and actually smokes!”

“I know that,” Stevie answered. Billie rolled over as quietly as possible and tried to peek around the curtain. She could only see Stevie’s ponytail. “I’m not saying that what Billie has been doing is right. But she gets punished for fighting people, and you’ll all get punished for bullying her if I have anything to say about it.”

Stevie’s choice of words made Billie scowl, but she continued to listen. Stevie shifted, turning a little bit so Billie could now see the exasperated look on the girls face. “There is exactly one more week until camp ends. I’m saying this for your sake; just leave her alone. Ignore her, if you have to, just stop daring her to do dumb shit. Please?” Stevie gave the three girls a small smile, and Billie disappeared back behind the curtain. It was one thing to see Stevie’s smile in her mind, but seeing it in person still made her heart skip a beat.

She waited several minutes, listening to the sound of the girls bustling around until the room was finally silent. With that, she yanked back the curtain and stared around at the empty room. Billie got dressed as quickly and quietly as possible, grabbed her cigarettes, and slipped out of the cabin.

After a while of wandering around the camp, Billie found herself entering the barn. She lit a cigarette and plopped onto a little wooden stump, ignoring the looks of boredom the horses shot at her. She only got a few minutes of peace before the barn door quietly opened and Stevie entered.

The pair stared at each other. Neither of them were where they were supposed to be. Billie knew she had another group therapy session, this time in the games room, and had decided that it was bullshit. It was also compulsory for Stevie to be there, to support her pool or whatever.

“Hey,” Stevie said. Billie blinked, then looked away.

“What do you want?” She muttered after taking a long drag of her cigarette and tapping some of the ash out onto the ground. “Here to tell me off for skipping the feelings bullshit?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

Stevie stepped inside, closing the old, red barn door behind her. She looked awkward, which was strange. Billie knew that the place Stevie had always felt most at home was surrounded by her beloved ponies and horse, so to see her so out of place and unsure was weird. Billie stood up when she received no answer, and stretched. Her arms cracked. “I’ll just go, then,” She said, grinding the cigarette out with her foot. “Sorry to disturb you, your highness.”

“Wait!” Stevie grabbed Billie’s arm as she tried to pass. Billie let out a hiss, hating that she loved the feeling of Stevie touching her again, even if it was to stop her from leaving. “I… You don’t have to go. I was just going to brush Sophie. You can – You can stay.”

The thought was nice. Billie closed her eyes briefly, remembering all the times spent in the barn, laughing with each other whilst one mucked out the stalls and the other patted the horses. She remembered when Stevie had helped her brush Lady’s mane, remembered the feeling of Stevie’s hand against hers as they untangled the knots. She wanted to say yes, more than anything.

But, then came the mess of memories from their breakup.

“ _I don’t need you here! Do you hear me? I don’t need you here!”_

Billie opened her eyes. She felt her happiness evaporate as quickly as it had appeared. “We’re not together anymore, Harrington,” She said firmly. “So you don’t have to be nice to me.”

Stevie pulled her hand away from Billie’s arm, looking hurt. “Billie, you… I like being nice to you. Why can’t you just accept help?”

“Why can’t you just stop trying to disguise yourself as an angel?” Billie snapped, then instantly felt bad when Stevie’s eyes filled with tears. “Look, I… Fuck. I didn’t mean that. No, I don’t want to stay. I don’t want to disturb you.”

“Wait!” Stevie said again, when Billie was close to the door. Billie sighed, cracked her fingers, and turned around.

What?” She sighed, exasperated and exhausted. “I’ve got places to be.”

“Can’t we...” Stevie shifted on her feet, looking uncomfortable. “Billie, can’t we talk about what happened? That night? We can’t just hide it forever.”

“We only have to hide it for a week,” Billie replied truthfully. She stared down at the ground, trying to ignore the tears that were trying to spill out of her eyes. “We only have to hide it for a week,” She repeated, trying to make it sound more truthful and sure. “And then we don’t have to see each other ever again.”

Stevie took a step back, looking like Billie had just punched her in the face. “Okay,” She said, quietly and blankly. “Okay. I get it. I’ll leave you alone.”

“I’ll leave you alone as well.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!” Billie said quickly. Her heart felt heavy. She wanted to curl up in bed and cry. “Fine. Whatever.”

“Whatever,” Stevie agreed. She nodded, then closed her eyes. “Whatever,” She repeated, more to herself than Billie. “ _Whatever_.”

Billie left.

She absolutely did not look back.


	15. The File

**Stevie**

The file sat, completely still, on Stevie’s bed. It was light brown, made of a thick paper and labelled neatly with the name _Hargrove, Williamina_. A strange name, Williamina. Stevie wondered who had decided it; Billie’s mother, or her father. Either way, it didn't fit the blonde. It was too posh, and didn't sound quite right on the tongue when paired with Billie’s chaotic and angry personality. Williamina. Stevie would never call her that.

The file held secrets. It held Billie’s past, and the reason Billie was stuck at the camp. It was private and something that Stevie shouldn’t have had in her room in the first place.

Stevie opened it.

Her eyes flashed over the words, gnawing on her bottom lip.

_Severe anger issues. Pyromania. Past experience with the law._

She slammed it shut again, and took a deep breath. Billie’s gorgeous blue eyes filled her mind, and she sighed. The file’s texture was rough underneath the pads of her fingers; she pulled them away and shoved the file under her pillow.

Outside, the camp was bustling around. It was just past eight in the morning, and the last day of camp. The buses were set to leave in three hours, yet Stevie already had everything packed. For what, she didn't know. There wasn't much to return to. A cold, empty house in a cold, unloving town. The moment Stevie stepped onto that bus, she had two hours left in the presence of Billie Hargrove. Two hours from the train station, and then they’d be gone. They would become strangers. Billie would find someone else, and Stevie? Well… Loneliness can do terrible things to a person.

She wondered, briefly, if she would become like her mother. It seemed close to impossible now. Before Billie, Stevie had long since come to accept the impending doom of being a sugar baby. Now, Billie had shown her she could be more than that. That she wasn't going to be stuck with a man like Nate, who didn't love her. That she wasn't going to be a sex toy to some creepy old bastard with money and connections to her fathers business. Billie had made a huge impact on her life.

Stevie blinked away some tears and stood up, tucking the file under her arm. She straightened her back, tilted her chin up, and opened the door.

The camp was chaos.

Last days could sometimes be the work. People were rushing around, buzzing like bees in a beehive… Except they had no fucking clue what they were doing. Even the _camp employees_ were confused as they chased the teens around and tried to find a spot to dump their luggage. Stevie looked around at them as she stood on the front step of her cabin, unsure what to do.

Far across the chaos, she noticed a curly blonde head leaning against a tree. Billie Hargrove seemed to find this amusing. Stevie wanted to kiss her.

She tore her eyes away from Billie, then grabbed a whistle out of her pocket and blew it as loud as possible.

The camp froze. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Billie look up and put a cigarette in her mouth. “Hey!” She shouted, gathering the attention of a few stragglers who hadn't heard her whistle. The other camp employees looked relieved at the sight of Stevie. She crossed her arms over her yellow shirt and denim overalls, and smiled. “Listen up!” She said, loud enough to be heard but not quite shouting. “My name is Stevie. You all know me – at least I hope you do, you’ve been here a while. Now, what we’re going to do is act as if this is all a _normal_ day. If you haven’t already packed your luggage, leave now and go to pack!” A few people parted from the crowd and headed off to the cabins. She nodded to herself. “Okay, good. If you’re trying to get on a bus, then stop. They don’t leave for another three hours. I promise, you will all get a seat, so stop trying to save them. If you’re waiting to use the telephone, then continue to do that, but _make sure_ you’re completely ready before you do. I want everybody present and accounted for in two hours – and if you’re not here, _the police will be called_. Now, can everybody quietly and calmly continue to do what they were doing?”

The crowd murmured, then slowly started to walk away and get to where they were going. Stevie let out a sigh of relief, and brushed a loose hair out of her eye.

“Bravo!” Somebody next to her said. She turned and saw Turner with a huge smile on his face, hands posed as if he was going to clap. “Bravo, Stephanie!” He continued. “I don’t know how the camp could do without you. You, Stephanie, well,” He shook his head and grinned as he let his arms fall to his sides. “Well, I think you’re the best person I’ve ever hired.”

“Thank you,” Stevie said, looking down at her feet. She felt like crying, but instead forced a smile. “Thank you very much sir.”

“I can’t wait for you to return next year, as bright as ever! The campers adore you, _I_ adore you!”

While Turner ranted on, Stevie found herself slipping into her thoughts. She remembered what Billie had said to her, and remembered what Turner has said when she told him about the abusive parent that Neil Hargrove was.

“Actually,” Stevie interrupted. “I quit. This whole thing is a scam. Those kids don’t get better, do they, Mr Turner? You’re scamming the hell out of people, out of parents who want nothing more than for their kids to be aware that their actions have consequences. You don’t care about kids. You care about money, and reputation. You’re so much like my father, it makes me _sick_. Fuck this. I quit.”

Later, when Stevie was boarding the buses with the rest of her peers, she was holding onto Billie’s file, and she intended to read it this time.

Stevie sat next to Dustin on the way back. He talked and talked and talked until eventually, he passed out and started to drool on her shoulder. She wanted to push him off, but instead sighed and leaned down a little, trying to give him a more comfortable position. As the bus jostled and squeaked, and the people squabbled and laughed, Stevie found herself drowning out the sounds by opening the file.

The photo of Billie they had wasn't a good one. She had a big, purple bruise across her eye, and her hair was frizzed. She looked exhausted. It made Stevie want to rip the photo in half, but instead, she found herself unclipping the picture and tucking it into her pocket. Once she was sure it wouldn't fall out, she propped the file up on her lap and began to read the information provided about Billie.

_Her birthday_. Stevie smiled. She remembered that birthday. She remembered Billie looking gorgeous in the soft light of the candle, her mouth pulled into a little smile as she made her wish. She remembered pressing soft kisses around Billie’s neck, whispering sweet words she could never speak in the open. She remembered the happy times, the times when Billie and her cared nought for the world but only for themselves.

_Her family_. Absent mother, working father. _No reason to be angry_ , people would say. Bullshit.

After paragraphs and paragraphs of information that she happily absorbed, wanting to remember every single piece of Billie, Stevie finally reached the crimes the girl had committed to be sent to Turner’s in the first place.

With a sigh, Stevie settled more comfortably into her seat, and began to read.


	16. Kerosene

**Billie**

Nostalgia hit Billie like an ocean as they finally arrived at the bus station and she spotted her gorgeous, blue camaro parked amongst the other cars. She wanted to jump out of the bus and melt into the leather seats, playing Metallica as she left the rest of the people at the station in her dust. Their last image of her could be her middle finger. But, as much as she wanted to, she couldn't. Billie had to wait for Turner to assess her as ‘cured’ before she was allowed to so much as move a single toe out of his sight.

When the bus came to a shaky stop, Billie was the first one up. She raced towards the doors and stepped out onto the dusty, sand covered ground. Heat hit her the moment she exited the bus, yet it didn't stop her from moving amongst the crowd of parents to get to her car. She ran her hand over the hot metal, checking to see if the paint job was fine. She didn't want some fucking kid to tag it. Luckily, the car was completely fine, despite the fact it had been sitting in a shitty car park for weeks. There wasn't even a crack in her windows.

Billie unlocked the car after fishing the keys out of her bra, and sank into the burning leather seat. Heat radiated off the car, dust swirled in the air, and it smelled suspiciously like burnt plastic, but for the first time in a while, Billie felt at home. She found a pack of cigarettes in her glove box and chain smoked as she watched the other kids getting off the bus to greet their parents. It was a little sad, actually, as she watched their parents hug them and kiss them as if they hadn't seen their kids three weeks ago. While they had loving parents and adorable siblings to greet them, Billie had a car. A shitty car she had won in a bet.

Suddenly, somebody slid into the seat next to her and interrupted her thoughts. Billie looked up to see Stephanie fucking Harrington sitting beside her, hot and sweaty from the sun that was beating down on them.

“Hey,” Stevie said.

“Get out,” Billie replied. She reached over and opened the door. “I don’t want to speak with – _what is that_?” Her eyes fell down to Stevie lap, where a folder sat neatly. Her name was clearly printed on the front. _So_ , Billie thought. _She’s finally read it_. She voiced her thoughts to Stevie, who nodded and closed the door again.

“Well, I...” The girl trailed off, as if unsure to say. Billie decided to speak for her.

“You read it, and you’re saying that you don’t want to ever let it get out that you dated me. Not only am I a girl, but I’m an insane one at that, one who accidentally burned a man alive. I get it. I’m trying really hard to get over you, Harrington, but I can’t do that if you keep showing up and getting in my personal space. So...” She let out a deep sigh and turned away from those big, brown, doe eyes. “Get out of my car.”

“No,” Stevie said. “We need to talk.”

“I’m busy.”

“You’re _clearly_ not.”

“I _clearly_ am. I’m busy trying to decide whether I should blow up the bus, or–” Billie directed her gaze towards the building itself. “–Light up the shelter, where there are a bunch of people. So, unless you want to be part of a list of names that get mentioned on channel seven tonight underneath the headline _tragedy at bus station_ , get the fuck out my car.”

“I want to hear your side of the story!” Stevie said quickly, which stopped Billie in her tracks. With a sigh, Billie leaned back against the seat and took a long drag of her cigarette. The smoke filled her lungs and she welcomed it, craving the burn of tobacco and the calmness the nicotine supplied. She wanted to cry. But she didn’t.

Billie blew smoke rings into the air, watching as they wavered and drifted in the still breeze before falling apart and becoming a hazy cloud. “What do you want to know, princess?” Billie murmured. She hoped she didn’t sound as shaky as she felt. “There’s not much to be said. I accidentally killed a guy.”

“But that’s...” Stevie paused, and Billie looked over at her. The girl was plucking at some fluff on her shirt – it was the first time Billie had seen her in anything apart from a yellow shirt with the camp’s name on it, or tattered pyjamas – and staring at her lap. She took a deep breath, as if steadying herself, and directed her gaze back up. Her eyes were dark brown, and filled with tears. Billie wanted to fucking kiss her, to press her face into the girl’s shoulder and cry her fucking heart out and fucking stay with her for the rest of her life but – but she didn't. She just watched. After a moment of silence, Stevie continued to speak. “Just tell me what happened,” She said. “I want to know what happened through your eyes.”

So Billie told her.

“I used to work at this shop, back in Cali,” She started. Already, she felt a heavy weight of sadness settling on top of her chest. “Just this little fucking handyman shop. We would sell stuff like tools, gas containers… Kerosene. And there was this other guy, this other employee, he used to hit on me until I told him that I… Well, you know, like pussy. Then, he started saying all this shit about me going to hell and whatever, but the owner of the store, he didn't care. He was just this old guy who wanted to get some extra money. Anyway, once Mickey – that was the other employee’s name – Once Mickey found out I liked girls, he started trying to hit on other people. Some of my friends, who would come to visit me at work. Uh, my step mum, once. That was funny. And then… Then my step sister, Max, entered the shop one day. She had just turned thirteen.”

Stevie sucked in a breath. Billie ignored her.

“She was wearing shorts that Neil said were too short, but I told her…” Billie let out a breathy laugh. “I told her, fuck ‘em. If her shorts are _distracting_ , then they’re just a bunch of pervs. She used to really look up to me, you know that? And I was pretty attached to her as well. Anyway, so. She entered the shop wearing this pair of shorts, and they were so fucking tight, and I had helped her cut them shorter just that morning, and… And Mickey saw her. I was out the back having a smoke, you know, trying to hide from my boss because he’d already caught me smoking once and would probably dock my pay if he found me again. Well, he’d threaten to, at least. He wouldn't really, but I didn't want to risk it. So I’m out the back, having a smoke, and I hear this loud shout, followed by a crash.

“I rushed inside, holding my smoke, and… And Max is throwing things at Mickey, shouting, ‘ _He tried to touch me, he tried to touch me_!’ And then she throws this fucking bottle of kerosene at him and it breaks and splashes all over him, all over the floor. At this point, I’ve managed to grab Max and I’m screaming at Mickey, telling him to stay away from my little sister, and I start throwing things too. I’m still holding my cigarette. By this time, it’s just this fucking filter, but there’s still a little spark, isn't there? He’s screaming as well – he’s got stuff in his eyes and he’s calling us bitches. I throw stuff at him and he screams and then someone is pulling me back and as I’m getting pulled back, I… I drop my smoke, don’t I?”

“You didn't put it out before?” Stevie asked quietly. Billie shook her head, remembering how panicked she had been when she heard Max’s shout echoing around the house.

“No, I… I wasn't thinking. I dropped my cigarette, and the whole floor goes up in flames, and, Mickey goes with it. I remember coughing, and being let go by the people who were holding me, and falling to the ground. And there was screaming, so much screaming. And I realise it’s Mickey. Mickey’s on fire. There’s no one else in the store. There’s fire everywhere. It caught onto the old curtains that I was supposed to throw out, and the shitty chipboard shelves, and stuff that’s been scattered along the ground by me and Max throwing it, and… And Mickey was covered in kerosene. And he was on fire. I remember...” Billie touched her face, and was surprised to find it was wet. Stevie was silent. “I remember thinking, there’s water over there. A mop bucket. Then I thought, he doesn’t exactly fucking deserve to be saved, does he? The fucking pervert. And before I know it, I’ve passed out because of the smoke. I fell asleep to Mickey’s screams, as if they were a lullaby. When I woke up, I was in hospital, and Mickey was dead.

“I went to court. I was found not guilty of manslaughter or murder, and let off without a second thought. Because, they didn't know what went through my head. They thought I had passed out before. But I hadn't. I could have grabbed the bucket, and saved him, but I didn't.

“When I got home, Max wouldn't look at me. It was like she was angry at me, or something. Or maybe she was just scared, scared of what she saw me do. After that, I started getting really angry with her too. And she deserved it. I looked after her, saved her, and what does she fucking do? Ignores me. So I started doing stuff, just to make her fucking _talk_ to me. I grabbed her wrist really hard, hard enough to leave bruises. I hit her, sometimes. I yelled at her a lot and made her feel like shit. I guess I should have known she was scared, and hurting inside. But I didn't care.

“A few months after the fire, cops showed up at my door. They said somebody had burned down Mickey’s old house. They said they believed it was me. I told them, I was in my room all night. But they didn't care. They arrested me, and as I was getting dragged past Max, I noticed her hiding a big thing of gasoline behind her. And the worst part? In court, she said that I wasn't in my room. That I was out, and when I returned, I smelled of gasoline. I was furious. A few weeks later I was driven by my step mother all the way across the country to Indiana, with my dad following behind in the ute. Max didn't come with. She was too guilty to. I got dropped off at the station, and then they both left in the ute.

“I’m not allowed to leave Turner’s sight until he says I’m good. I’m not allowed to leave even though I’m eighteen. I’m not allowed to leave because my dad hates me and Max hates me and Turner hates me and fuck, Stevie...” Billie took a deep breath. “I think, sometimes, I might hate me too.”

A heavy silence settled over the car. The kind of silence one would find at a funeral, after a loved one had just been lost. The kind of silence that people hated, more than anything, because that kind of silence was nothing but loudness. It wasn't uncomfortable, it was just… Sad.

“I think I hate myself as well,” Stevie whispered then, so quiet that Billie almost didn't catch it. “I think I did. Until I met you, and you made me feel like I was the most beautiful person on the planet. You made me feel things I thought I’d never feel again. For just a short while, I liked myself, because you liked me.”

Billie remembered that feeling. She remembered feeling happier than she had ever felt in her life, when Stevie kissed her softly and told her she was beautiful. When Stevie pressed her nose into her hair and told her she wasn't a fuck up. That she didn't deserve the shit her dad gave her.

Before Billie could stop herself, memories were flying through her head faster than she could catch them.

Hazy mornings, where the windows were misted and it was nothing but her and Stevie, curled up in each other’s arms.

Weed and cigarettes, smoked at three in the morning even though they knew it wasn't good for them.

Watching Stevie with the horses, completely at peace. Leaning in when she thought no one was watching and pressing a kiss to a pony’s head.

Billie was remembering it all. She was remembering the summer they had just had, as if it had happened years ago.

She was remembering falling in love.

Because she was in love.

_Fuck, she was in love_.

“I still do,” She whispered. “Like you. In fact, Stephanie… I think I might even love you.”

“Shit,” Stevie replied quietly, a smile toying on her gorgeous pink lips. “Think I might love you too.”


	17. One-twenty An Hour

**Stevie**

Stevie always had exactly one cigarette as she waited for the bus to leave. She smoked it until the filter burnt at her lips, then blew out a last plume of grey smoke and ground it under her foot, despite the fact it was dying anyway. She didn’t think of the rose perfume in her cabin, or how shaky she was from the year before. She took a deep breath through her nose and smelled the salty scent of Billie Hargrove next to her. They were standing close, their pinkies touching as they leaned on the top of Billie’s car and watched as people scurried about.

“I love you,” Billie said. She hadn't stopped saying it since their confessions. Stevie turned and looked at her, and smiled.

“I love you too,” She replied. The words felt perfect on her tongue, and tasted like strawberry and vanilla. “I love you so much.”

It was nice to say the words out loud. It was even better to hear Billie say them back.

Their soft moment was interrupted by an unwelcome face approaching them. Carol stalked through the crowd, her boyfriend Tommy at her heels. Her eyes were narrowed, and her lips pursed into an angry little pucker. “Stevie!” She exclaimed, when she reached them. She was smiling again, a smile that didn't reach her eyes. “Hi! I thought you weren’t, uh, friends with her anymore?” Her eyes shifted towards Billie, who huffed and crossed her arms.

“What does it matter to you?” Stevie asked, mimicking Billie’s position. “We’re never coming back to this camp, anyway. I’ve quit, and Billie’s out.”

“It matters because you were my best friend, a year ago,” Carol answered sharply. “And she’s literally in love with you, and yeah, even though we don’t talk that much, you being friends with her is literally social suicide. Like, the first time, whatever. But now that you’re friends again, it’s like, people are going to think you’re okay with her loving you? Which you’re not. So I’m just trying to help you.”

“I am okay with her loving me,” Stevie told her. “Completely, a hundred percent okay with it. Why? Because I love her too. Check this out.”

Stevie grabbed Billie’s wrist and pressed their lips together. The rest of the world melted away, and she felt Billie relaxing into her arms. _There is nothing better_ , Stevie decided, _than kissing Billie Hargrove_.

“People are looking,” Billie murmured when they pulled apart. “Carol looks like she’s about to explode.”

“Let them look,” Stevie replied quietly. She ran her thumb along Billie’s prominent cheek bone and broke away from her to look at Carol. Billie was right. She did look like she was about to explode.

“You’re a dyke?!” Carol shrieked with wide eyes. Tommy, meanwhile, look as if he was about to cream his pants.

“Bisexual,” Corrected Stevie.

“And,” Billie added, her eyes narrowed. “It’s none of your business. We’re leaving, anyway, so save your bitching. It’s not like you’re ever going to see us again.”

When Billie’s car purred to life, it sounded like the next best thing in the world (the first being Billie say she loved her). Stevie glanced back just in time to see the sleek, black car her parents had sent to pick her up park next to the station. She wanted to laugh, then wanted to cry when she wondered if her parents would notice that she was gone. But she pushed the thought out of her mind and settled more comfortably into her seat. Beside her, Billie picked up a pair of sunglasses of the dashboard and put them on. She revved the car once, twice, and then they were off. Stevie let out a shriek of laughter and held onto the door.

Being with Billie made her feel as if she was well and truly alive. At that moment, sitting in the car next to Billie, going one-twenty an hour with the windows down made her feel more human than she had ever felt in her life. She loved that girl. She loved Billie, and Billie loved her.

_Iron Maiden_ blasted through the speakers as they drove, and Stevie turned it up, just to hear Billie sing even louder over the music.

“Where are we headed?” Stevie asked, her arm hanging out the window. Billie pursed her lips, as if thinking, then turned and looked over at Stevie.

“How does Los Angeles sound?”

“It sounds fucking perfect.”

Billie’s was Stevie’s oxygen, and she wasn't losing her. Not quite yet, anyway.

_The End_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3  
> Tumblr: xxlost-in-starsxx  
> Instagram: xxlost_in_starsxx


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